For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail
by Rico Perrien
Summary: A prophecy is made, and another discreditted. This changes everything. Seriously AU
1. Consultations

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 1: Consultations**

Quotation: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing"

Attributed to Edmund Burke and also Leo Tolstoy

May 4, 1991

The headmistress of the Academie des Beauxbatons was sitting at her desk, looking over the results of the year and planning for the upcoming year. There were invitation letters to go to prospective students, diplomas to prepare for the upcoming graduates, contract negotiations and bonuses to be considered for new and continuing staff, and all the other minutia of running one of the foremost schools of the magical arts in Europe. In spite of it being Saturday, there was always too much to do.

The floo in her fireplace flared with a green flame, and a voice issued forth. "Madame Maxine, Philip Ste. Claire here. Do you have time to speak briefly?"

Olympe smiled to herself. Philip had been one of her star pupils some thirty years ago, and was now the director at 'L'Ecole des Batons de Feu', the magical adjunct to the French St Cyr military college in Brittany.

She turned to the fireplace and said "I am here, Philip. Do you wish to come through, or just speak?"

Philip's voice answered. "May I come through? I think this needs a face-to-face conversation."

Olympe grew a bit tense. Philip's school dealt with military secrets and weapons, and the times when he wished an in-person meeting usually has serious implications.

She responded "Please come through. Do you wish others to attend as well?"

St Claire stepped out of the fireplace, more gracefully due to long years of practice than many managed. He smiled and said "I don't think we need bother anyone else, at least not yet."

Philip was a tall man, but Madame Maxine had to bend low for him to kiss her on both cheeks in greeting. Being over 3 metres tall herself, this was an accommodation she was very much used to.

After offering refreshments, Olympe sat and gestured to a chair for her guest. "How can I help, my old friend?"

Philip leaned forward, almost in a conspiratorial way, and said, "I have had word from the Broceliande Chiron that he wishes to meet with you on a matter of some urgency."

The tall witch smiled at the reference to the head centaur of the Broceliande forest. Like the titles 'Augustus' and 'Caeser', what had once been a personal name had over time become a title of respect and power.

"And what does the good Marcellus wish to speak of?"

The wizard grimaced. "He has had word from the seers of his people. At Beltane, they had a gathering of their wise ones and diviners, and some dire predictions were made. Apparently, there is going to be trouble in the United Kingdom in the near future, a threat from the past, and there are things we can do, perhaps even must do, to assist. He says that he wishes us both to attend a meeting to discuss ways to protect those fleeing the upcoming troubles, and contain the problems. The fact that he wants me there as well sounds like there may be military issues, or at least security matters" Part of Philip's work had to do with military intelligence, so some covert matters could be involved.

Through many wars and revolutions, the French magical and mundane communities had come to a mutually beneficial working relationship, at least in certain circles. Unlike Britain, the slogan of Liberty, Equality and Fraternity was applied to all French peoples and races. Some had long magical pedigrees, while other families were relatively new to the powers, but over time, the French had found that ability was the key and not bloodlines. This was not to say that there were not tensions and family pride, but these had as much to do with wealth and social status as magical heritage.

The headmistress nodded. "I see. When and where? Am I to assume the regular place?"

Philip smiled. "But of course. The tomb of Merlin is the only proper place for magical peoples to meet, no?. As to when, he would like to meet the Monday after next, at sundown. Monday is the day of the new moon, and he says his seers have stated it is an auspicious time for new beginnings and new projects. I have seen some of their doings, and they seem to know what they are about, so I agreed, subject for your own availability."

Madame Maxine stood. "May 13th it is then! The usual protocol, I assume?"

Smiling widely, Philip nodded. He hoped that the middle of May was going to be warm. The forest could get a bit cool in the evening.

May 13, 1991

In the middle of the forest, a witch, a wizard and two centaurs approached each other around a stone pillar that marked the tomb of the one who was thought to be the greatest wizard who had ever lived. The fact that he was a manipulative old bastard who had been an accessory to a royal rape didn't seem to bother many people, and in some quarters actually was looked on as a sign of greatness.

As was the custom for such meetings, with clothing being superfluous to the centaurs, the participants were dressed in starlight and warm breezes. They did wear badges of their offices.

The majestic palamino stallion carried a yew bow tipped in gold and wore a jewelled diadem, and the other centaur, a brown mare, wore an garnet on her forehead over where the mystics say the third eye is located, and carried a long dagger. The witch carried her wand in her right hand, and worn a jewelled necklace bearing a pendant of two crossed golden wands. The wizard carried his wand in his left hand, and worn a necklace with a pendant with a vertical wand of bronze with a bloom of fire at its upper end.

As was often the case at such meetings, Philip looked at his former teacher, who was now his mentor. The half-giant witch stood well above his own not-inconsequential stature, and as always he thought, "That's a hell of a lot of woman!" His mind went back to his schooldays at the Academie, when one topic of discussion among the pubescent boys was how Madame Maxine had managed to be conceived, and the implication to the anatomy of giants (depending on which of her parents had been which, a secret which had never been revealed).

The four approached the stone in the centre of the clearing. The mare handed Philip her dagger, and he handed his wand to her, while the stallion passed his bow to Olympe who passed her wand to him. Having exchanged their own weapons for those of the others, the four then leaned the items against the rock and joined hands. Together they spoke the injunction "We come together in peace for mutual benefit". The Ritual of Trust being complete, they could proceed with what they came to do.

The four nodded to each other. The stallion spoke with a deep voice saying "Greetings Olympe Maxine, Chiron to the Young Humans, and Philip Ste. Claire, Chiron to the Warriors. I am Marcellus, Chiron of Broceliande, and this", gesturing to the mare, "is Char, a Seer of my herd.

Philip snickered slightly, at which the centaurs scowled. He bowed his head towards them, and asked, "Your pardon, please. I mean no offense. In my work, I must converse in English at time, as I have been doing most of today, and Char the Seer, is humorous in that tongue. Again, I ask your pardon."

The mare spoke in a light alto voice. "My people also deal with the English at times, and I was often teased when I was young. Sir, I take no offense."

The tension decreased, and all smiled.

Olympe looked at Marcellus, and asked, "You asked for this meeting, and I was told the matter is serious. How may we serve?"

The stallion nodded to the mare, who spoke. "My people have seen the signs that tell of much trouble ahead. There are serious problems on the islands to the north, and an old threat is rising again. They will reject one of their own, who some think cannot be one of them, a young filly with a wild mane. She will need sanctuary and her family will need protection from those who in power who are most un-wise. Later, an aged roan mare and a colt will also ask for succour. You are in a position to offer the assistance which is needed. As they are of your kind, rather than ours, this help should come from you."

"If they are given the assistance they need, the wizard and two witches of whom I speak will be instrumental in curing the cancer afflicting our cousins to the north. Not since Lancelot left these woods to cross the waters has such an opportunity arisen. "

"Madame Headmistress, it is the season when you invite those to be initiated into your society to come to your place of learning. We ask that you send a missal to the family of the girl, and extend such an invitation. This is of such importance that our people will pay your tuition fees for her."

"We will also pay for the colt's education if it is needed, but he is to inherit wealth, so this may be only a bridge until he can converse with the goblins and rightfully access his assets. We have seen that there are those who will want to prevent this from happening."

The two humans were stunned by these statements. The centaurs were known to value learning above all else, but never had they offered to sponsor any human student.

Char continued, "I see by your expression that you are puzzled by this offer. It is imperative that the girl attend Hogwarts for two months. She will then need to leave within the following month, and she will be fleeing for her life. Her family will have paid the tuition at Hogwarts, and will not be able to afford your fees as well. When she flees, her family will be in danger from the British Ministry as they are not magical, and must be protected. Our people cannot travel freely among humans, so we require your assistance in this."

"When the elder witch flees, she will bring with her the colt, who is of much future power and importance. He is the heir of an old family of great prestige, but will not yet have come into his inheritances. He is, at the moment, ignorant of your ways. There will be those who would use him or kill him, and we cannot permit that. Again we ask for your assistance – the elder witch is a revered teacher, and has much to offer to either of your schools. It is imperative that these three be out of Britain while the purges continue, and their later presence is critical."

Philip was shocked by Char's statements. "You say there will be purges? Are you sure?" At the mare's scowl, he shook his head and added, "Your pardon, my lady. I spoke in haste and in shock. Your people speak truth, and would not have called this gathering if you were not sure. Again, I apologize."

Char nodded. "I understand your reluctance to believe my words. The Wise of my people discussed this matter in depth. The most optimistic of our visions and prognostications indicate at least thirty deaths of prominent people, while the most pessimistic see many more, and possibly even involving wide-spread combat with the non-magicals – should that last happen, the casualties would be catastrophic"

"Again, I say that it is imperative that these three, or at least the girl, be out of their lands before the killing begins. If more can be saved, that would be all to the good as well."

The stallion nodded, and turned to the humans. "You have heard the words of our people. Will you help?"

The two humans looked at each other, and nodded. Olympe nodded to the centaurs. "Of course, we will do what we can. The invitations will be sent to the girl and her family, and when the time comes, an additional letter will be sent to remind them of the offer. A letter will be sent to the teacher and to the boy as well."

Char grimaced, and added, "Your letter to the witch must state that she not reveal the offer to her headmaster, except in the form of a usual offer you would send to competent teachers you wish to recruit. He is one of the problems."

At this, Madame Maxine was stunned. "But Dumbledore is one of the most respected wizards alive. Surely he can help with this."

Char shook her head, flipping her mane back and forth across her neck. "No, I say no and my people say no. He has been Headmaster for thirty years, he has been Supreme Mugwump for fifteen and Head Warlock for fifty, and what has he accomplished? Yes he fought Grindelwald and defeated him. He and his organization fought the One-whom-they-fear-to-name, and they almost lost that battle, until the colt of whom I speak drove the monster away somehow in an unknown manner. Since then, his school is a place where those of non-magical parentage are regularly abuse and assaulted. At the end of the Voldemort war, at a time under his authority, many murderers who followed Voldemort were pardoned, and never questioned with your truth-telling potions – some are even on the board of governors of his school. He forgave those who committed Unforgivables, and he fails to protect the weak and innocent. He has the power to cure their society, and he fails to do so. Our people, both on this side of the water and on theirs, feel he is more interested in having his positions of power than performing their duties. He likes having the jobs, but does not do the jobs! He is part of the problems they will have to deal with. We can but assist those who need help."

Olympe nodded. "I hear your words. There is much to be done, and it will be done."

With this, the four picked up the weapons, handed them back to their owners, and turned from the place. The centaurs blended back into the forest, and after some discussion, the humans returned to their offices to start doing what must be done.


	2. Epiphanies

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 2: Epiphanies**

Hallowe'en 1991

A young witch sat on a toilet in the fourth floor girls' washroom. She was not using the porcelain structure for its usual purposes, but only as a chair to sit on while she sat and wept her eyes out.

She had had great hopes for this place. Hogwarts would be a place where she would finally fit in, and all the strange occurrences around her would be considered normal. Instead, it was even worse than her non-magical school. There she was teased because of her bookishness, her untameable hair and her busk teeth. Here, in the school of magic, she was also despised because of her non-magical (aka muggle) birth, and there were many who declaimed very loudly that she not only had no right to magic, but no right to exist!

She had been assaulted, and this day, even one of her own House that she had thought a potential friend had been saying nasty things about her intelligence, and her need to know everything. She had been able to do something he could not, and she tried to help. He did not take her unwanted help well, and had lashed out.

When she had come to Hogwarts, the first year students were told that their Houses would be like their families. The way she was being rejected even by her own, she felt like she was an orphan. At least in the muggle world, she had her mother and father.

She hated this place. Her Head of House, who was supposed to be her advocate and support, was a stern Scottish witch, who seemed more concerned with appearing regal than being of any help in any way.

As she was wallowing in her despair, she heard grunting sounds and smelled a terrible stench. She looked out of her cabinet, and saw a horror. At the entrance to the washroom stood a troll, at least four metres tall, looking around with a puzzled and angry expression. In its hand was a large club.

The troll looked at the porcelain sinks lining the one wall, and the toilet stalls along the other and started swinging the club. The girl screamed, but the troll paid her little attention and continued smashing the toilet cabinets. As the girl fled her own stall, she tripped and fell to the floor. She was hit by flying shards of broken porcelain on her face and her legs, which were now exposed as her skirt rode up in her fall. Fortunately for her, her school robe and other clothing took the brunch of the spray of sharp fragments.

Having smashed three of the stalls, the troll took its club and smashed a hole in the floor of the middle stall. It then turned and sat down over the hole. Grunts and intestinal sounds followed this action, and the troll took on a relieved facial expression. As it had sat down, it had whipped off its loincloth, and the young witch could clearly see that the troll was female.

Hermione drew out her wand, and started to aim it at the troll. The creature saw the wand and started to whimper. It said, "No hurt Marshy. Marshy not hurt pinky. Not want hurt pinky. Pinky put down stick?"

Hermione was puzzled. She had been told that trolls were dumb beasts who had no power of speech, but she had clearly heard this troll speak.

"What do you mean by pinky?", as she lowered her wand, to the troll's obvious relief.

The troll pointed at Hermione. "Pinky." She (for it was female) pointed to herself, and said "Browny. Some pinkies brown too. Marshy not know brown pinkies, but Marshy see in fields by stone house."

Hermione asked "You say you don't want to hurt me, but you smashed up the room and almost killed me!"

The troll shook her head. "No want hurt girl pinky. Bad man pinky with stick make Marshy come in stone house. Scare Marshy. Marshy need do, need do right away. Scared bad! Marshy make hole for do," pointing at the floor where she sat. "Most times, Marshy do in forest, like bears." The troll started to laugh at her joke.

Hermione thought for a moment. The stone house apparently was the Hogwarts castle. "Your name is Marshy?" The troll nodded happily. "My name is Hermione."

The troll pointed at herself "Marshy." She then pointed at the young witch "My-ee!" The troll smiled "My-ee nice to Marshy. Not point stick. My-ee help Marshy go forest?"

Before Hermione could answer, two of her housemates burst into the room. The leader, one Harry Potter, stopped suddenly as he saw the troll, causing Ron Weasley to run into him from behind. Ron took a look at the troll sitting on the floor, and lost control of his bowels.

The troll laughed out loud "Boy pinky do in pants! In stone house, not in forest with bears. Ho, ho, ho." Hermione looked disgusted at the revelation that potty humour transcends species.

Harry looked at Hermione in surprise "That troll is talking. We were told trolls couldn't talk."

Hermione looked at her classmate, who apparently had come to rescue her from certain death, and shook her head. "Harry, they lied to us. Trolls can talk. This is Marshy. She says a bad wizard made her come into the castle, and she just wants to go home.

The troll looked at Harry, and pointed to him "A-ri?"

Harry nodded. He pointed at himself, then at is other companion, and then at the troll. "Harry, Ron, Marshy. Yes?" The troll smiled and nodded. She pointed at Harry, "A-ri", then to Hermione, "My-ee. My-ee nice to Marshy!"

At this point in the confusion, Professor McGonagall burst into the room, wand drawn ready for battle. Hermione leapt in front of Marshy, who was cowering at the sight of the wand. "Professor, no! She doesn't want to hurt anyone. She just wants to go home."

McGonagall was shocked. "What do you mean, Miss Granger? You are trying to tell me this fully-grown mountain troll doesn't want to hurt us?" Looking at Hermione's wounds from the broken crockery, she asked "How badly did she hurt you?"

Hermione shook her head. "I got hit by pieces of the broken sinks and toilets. Marshy didn't attack me at all. She was frightened, and needed to go to the bathroom."

McGonagall's cat senses on full alert, she could smell that Hermione was not frightened, but the troll (a very different smell) was terrified at the sight of her wand.

The troll looked at the professor. "Marshy no hurt. Marshy not big troll. Mummy, Daddy, big trolls. Marshy little!"

McGonagall was completely non-plussed. Everything she had been told about trolls seemed to be evaporating. This four metre tall troll was speaking, and what was more, telling her that she (the troll) was small. How big must a fully grown troll be? Realizing that she had met only a few people who had actually encountered trolls, except under unusual conditions, she lowered her wand, to the troll's visible relief.

At this point, professors Snape and Dumbledore rushed into the room. Seeing the troll, they both immediately fired high powered stunners at the creature. Hermione rushed up to them screaming that they shouldn't hurt the troll. Marshy collapsed against the wall and slid down to the floor.

Snape looked at her, and sneered "You stupid little girl, you could have been killed! You don't know anything about these dumb beasts. They are extremely dangerous." Looking at Harry and Ron, he sneered again. "Three Gryffindors. I should have known. It's bad enough I have to try teach these three idiots, but now they want us to believe this garbage. Bah!", and swept out of the bathroom

Dumbledore, looked at the stunned creature, and said "I'll have Hagrid dispose of the body." Hermione looked at the man she had respected so highly up until that moment, and asked, "Please Professor, can you have the body put out by the edge of the forest?"

The headmaster nodded. "Good idea, let the crows and wolves clean it up", and turned leaving the room.

Hermione ran over to Marshy's body, and felt for a pulse. She felt a slight beating of the creature's heart, and looked at Professor McGonagall in hope. The elder witch came over and checked as well. "I think she is just stunned. She must be a very strong lass – those were nasty spells they cast! If what she said is true, I am rather glad. If this is only a little troll, and if she had been killed, I wouldn't want to think about what her parents would do to us all for killing their little girl. I know what I would want to do, if it were me. I'll see that Hagrid puts her out near where the forest comes to the edge of the mountains, and see if he can get a message to her family."

Suddenly, as the shock and adrenalin of the experience left her, Hermione fainted.

Hermione woke in a bed which was not her own. She found that other than a hospital gown, which implied that she was in the infirmary, she was undressed. She was aware that there seemed that she was wearing something 'lower down'.

"Ah, good. You're awake."

Hermione turned to see Madame Pomfrey sitting in a chair beside the bed she was in. The medi-witch helped her sit up, and then handed her a beaker of a potion. "Drink up."

Hermione took the beaker and drank the contents. To her surprise, it tasted on some citrus fruit. She handed the empty beaker back to the nurse and was about to ask what was happening, when the matron smiled and said, "My girl, welcome to being a woman."

Hermione shook her head in confusion, and said something brilliant. "What?"

Madame Pomfrey laughed. "Surely your mother told you this would happen eventually. We hold a class on the processes of growing up in December of your first year, when people are a bit more comfortable with their surroundings and more able to cope with information which can be a little personally embarrassing, but you're a bit older than your classmates, and you beat us to it. Tell me, besides the usual crap that goes on here, have you been a bit out of sorts the last couple days, moody and having some abdominal cramps?"

Hermione nodded. "But the cramps are gone, and I feel okay." She looked at the empty beaker in the nurse's hand.

Pomfrey nodded. "It's called 'Potion M', and you can get it at the school commissary, wherever you need it. Helps with the cramps. Also, while you are there, when you need what are euphemistically called 'hygiene products', just asked for Poppy's Stuff. We have to keep them in a back room, otherwise the damned pure-bloods get really upset. Stupid fools. Not only do they want to feel superior by not using muggle-made products, they don't want anyone else to use them either, particularly if they make life more convenient for the witches while the wizards continue to do what they please, and get the revolutionary idea that the pure-bloods aren't the be-all-and-end-all of existence. Bloody idiots and hypocrites."

Hermione was shocked at the nurse's lack of 'respect' for the high-and-mighty types (or as she thought of them, 'Legends In Their Own Minds'), but then her bookwormishness came to the fore. "What do the pure-blood girls use, then?"

Poppy smiled. "Well, some do use stuff that has been invented within the last century; they just don't tell others about it. The others wear self-scourgifying undies. Not the best idea because as they dry up all fluids including the water content of their bodies' cells, they tend to chafe rather badly."

Hermione asked, "Wouldn't they, I guess I mean we, just come to you for the potions?"

The nurse laughed. "Miss Granger, there are around three hundred students in this school, and half are young women. Of those, probably 80 percent or more have gone through puberty. I wouldn't have enough hours in the day to pass out stuff that is not a controlled substance to about a hundred and twenty cranky girls!"

Getting back to why she had woken up in the hospital wing, Hermione asked, "Why am I here? Last thing I remember, I was talking to a little girl troll, the Headmaster and Professor Snape stunned her, and then I was talking to Professor McGonagall."

The medi-witch nodded. "You were perhaps lucky. Your friend, Mr. Potter, caught you as you fainted, otherwise you could have cracked your head on the floor. Stone buildings are not conducive to soft landings. I would have needed much stronger potions for you then, for a cracked skull."

Something twigged in Hermione's mind. "That potion you gave me. It tasted good, really good. Every other potion I have heard of, when Harry gets hurt for example, tastes horrible. What's the difference?"

"It was tangerine, a personal favourite of mine". Poppy Pomfrey looked a bit sad. "Ah, Miss Granger, one problem we humans have, all humans, not just magicals or muggles, is our ability to become addicted to things. Call them bad habits if you will. Around here, we have some very powerful pain-killing potions, with all the injuries from children running around on stone floors, or people playing quidditch. Bloody stupid game. I spend more of my time patching up injuries from that."

"I am personally convinced that the game is just another way the pure-bloods try to prove their superiority over the muggle-borns."

Hermione smiled a little. "I have to agree with you about the obsession with quidditch. If it wasn't for friends playing, I wouldn't much care for it. I was never much for sports anyway though, and I don't really like flying – I have a bit of vertigo, I think. It's worst when I'm on those stupid moving staircases – the first week here, I almost threw up every time I was on them. How do you mean about quidditch being a superiority thing?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "Miss Granger, I think that this is part of your growing up – seeing behind the obvious. You have to remember that most magical kids have been on brooms since they were in diapers. Other than your friend Mr. Potter, who flies like he was born on a broom, most of the injuries I see are muggle-born kids trying to compete with the skills of others who have been flying for at least a decade. Some, like your housemate Miss Bell, can outfly the best of them, but the injury rate is unacceptably high. Sometimes I feel like I am wasting my time and training on what is in essence self-inflicted damage. And by the way, if it makes you feel less left out, I don't care for flying on a broom either – first time up on one, I got slivers in my backside."

"Anyway, to really answer your question, it is far too easy to get addicted to strong pain-killing potions. In muggle society, as you know, they have a real problem with drug addictions. It is standard practice in the healing profession to make the strongest potions taste awful, and the very strongest one have an additive that makes you sick as a dog if you take too much. Even with these precautions, you do get some – pitiful creatures who will do anything, anything, for another dose."

Hermione looked down at her gown covered body. "Where are my clothes?"

Poppy looked into the air, and called "Tashy!" A small creature with big eyes and floppy ears appeared next to her, and asked "Yes Mistress Pomfee?"

Poppy smiled, and said "Thank you for coming so promptly. Are Miss Granger's clothes ready for her?" The creature nodded and disappeared, reappearing a moment later with Hermione's clothing neatly folded.

In her surprise, Hermione thanked the creature, who smiled, handed the clothes to the girl, and then disappeared. She turned to Madame Pomfrey and asked, "What the hell on God's Green Earth was that thing?"

The nurse burst out laughing. "Ah, Miss Granger, I take it you have not been introduced to the castle's elves yet. Specifically, Tashy is a house elf, as opposed to the wood elves. She is one of the staff who look after this place. Sometimes I think we humans are just visitors they keep around to make messes for them to clean up – they love to clean and work, it seems. Who did you think cleans up, cooks, and takes care of your laundry?"

Hermione shook her head. "I guess that, with everything so new to me here, I never thought to ask. But why was my clothing taken away?"

Madame Pomfrey said, "When you encountered the troll, it smashed up the sinks and toilets, didn't it?"

Hermione nodded, and then said by way of correction, "She. Not it."

Poppy smiled as she nodded. "She, then. As you prefer. You were hit by shards of porcelain, which is very sharp, and your legs and face were badly cut which is why you are here with me. Your clothes had hundreds of shards embedded in them, and if they had not been removed, you would have had to throw those clothes away, or be badly scratched every time you wore them. The elves spent the last couple hours removing the sharp bits. But you're ready to go now."

Hermione paused and looked downwards towards her abdomen. "Ah?"

Poppy smiled. We talked about that, didn't we. If you would like to chat about options, I would be happy to help. Now, Professor McGonagall wants to see you as soon as you feel up to it. She indicated it was most important, so scoot."

As Hermione left the infirmary, her mind was disturbed by what she had heard. The school's medi-witch was apparently less than happy about many aspects of their world, and more importantly, the school environment and the tyranny of the pure-blood factions. Hermione recalled a letter she had received over the summer, which indicated that she did have other options besides Hogwarts.

On her way to Professor McGonagall's office, she was forcefully reminded of why she hated certain parts of her life as a witch.

"I see the mudblood doesn't have her friends any more. I guess even Scarhead and the blood-traitor can't stand someone who hangs out with trolls."

Draco Malfoy laughed at what passed for a witticism. At his side, Pansy Parkinson also laughed and added, "Maybe she was trying to get a date. Or maybe she thinks she's too ugly even for a troll."

Gregory Goyle grunted. "Naw, she probably thinks she's too pretty, even with her buck teeth and crazy hair. Maybe we should help her out with that." With that, he and Crabbe grabbed Hermione's arms, and then Goyle grabbed her hair and pulled on it hard.

Parkinson stepped forward swinging her arm up. In her hand, Hermione saw a sock which seemed to be loaded with something. Her father had told her of a standard thug's weapon of a sock full of sand which could be dumped out quickly eliminating the evidence, and Pansy's sock looked like what he had told her about.

Hermione also remembered what her father had told her when she was growing up and being bullied at school. He has said, "In the army, we were taught that you can't always win, but you can always make sure they had to pay for anything they got. Make sure that if they are going to hurt you, they get hurt worse." He had shown her a few techniques to assist in this endeavour.

As Goyle pulled her hair, Hermione turned slightly and kicked. Instinctively, Goyle bent his leg to protect his crotch, which Hermione was taught to expect. The tip of Hermione's shoe drove into the side of his leg between his ham and quad muscles, causing a massive cramp. Crying out, he let go of her hair and fell to the floor crying.

Seeing this happen, Crabbe pulled on her arm to pull her off balance. She stepped back, driving the edge of her shoe down his shin, and stomping on his instep breaking several bones.

Draco fell back. Being the bully he was, he never expected a counter-attack, particularly when outnumbered four to one.

Seemingly out of nowhere, something flew out of a dark corner of the hallway, hitting Pansy's forearm which bent in two with a sharp crack. She screamed at the sudden pain. The 'thing' twisted, and hit Draco, breaking his nose, and then proceeded to hit Parkinson, Crabbe and Goyle around the head, bloodying them impressively. The object's attack halted, when Hermione heard Professor McGonagall's voice yell "Stupify totas! Kassandrakos".

Hermione's four attackers froze, and looked at each other in horror. They knew the first charm, but had never heard the second. They had no idea what the Professor had done to them.

McGonagall walked up to Hermione and said "Poppy said she had sent you down to see me, and you were taking longer than you should. I decided to see what kept you." She then looked into space and called "Froofy!"

A house elf popped into view. McGonagall smiled at the elf, and order "Can you please tell Prefect Weasley that his presence is required?" The elf nodded and disappeared.

Percy Weasley soon ran up to the small group. McGonagall turned and said "Mr. Weasley, please escort these four to the infirmary. And please tell Madame Pomfrey to leave them something to remember the evening by."

Weasley looked at his Head of House with a nasty grin. "I assume the 'nice summer' treatment, Professor?" McGonagall nodded.

Before the four were led away, McGonagall turned to the four Slytherins. She looked at Malfoy, and said "Before you start whining about 'When my father hears about this', remember the embarrassment you will cause him when he hears that you and your three stooges were bested by a muggle-borne, and a girl no less. Also remember, the house elves are under my control, and they can move freely through the castle. No ward around your dormitories can stop them. Now, get out of my sight!"

The elderly professor then looked down the hall, and said "Accio Bat". A large wooden paddle flew into her hand, along with two small winged creatures, who did not seem appreciative of being awakened early. McGonagall handed the paddle to Weasley and said, "Please pass this to your brother Fred. He said that one of the team's bats was missing from the Quidditch locker today." She then petted the heads of the two little beasts, apologised for disturbing them, and tossed them into the air where they took flight and returned to wherever they had come from.

Looking at each other, together the Professor and the Prefect declaimed "Gryffindors look after Gryffindors!" as if giving a battle cry (quietly), and the young man took his wand and marched the four Slytherins off in a direction which was not the direct route to the infirmary.

Hermione turned to the elder witch and asked, "What did you two mean, 'the nice summer'? And what did you mean, some thing to remember the evening by?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled at the younger witch, and said "There is an old saying. 'He had a nice summer, but a terrible fall'. Sort of a House code between myself and the senior Gryffs. The people Mr. Weasley is escorting will arrive at their destination, but they are not likely to appreciate the assistance getting there. It is a term for making sure that your enemies do not enjoy their journey. The way this place has become over the last few years, we need to look out for our own, of which you are one of our newest charges. The remembering meant that they will have bruises and scars which won't go away for a long time. Mr. Malfoy will have his imperfect nose until he has some additional surgery – he will probably snore a lot, which will help reduce his popularity in his dorms."

She looked toward the retreating form of Percy Weasley and sighed. "He is a hopeless prig, but very efficient, and very smart. All told, a useful fellow to have around."

"Now, Miss Granger, shall we proceed to my office? You and I have some rather important matters to discuss."

As she sat drinking the tea (the universal cure-all to the British) which Professor McGonagall had offered once they got to her office, the shock of the day came back to Hermione, and she started to cry again. As she wept, however, she saw the professor cast some unknown spells around the room. After a few minutes of this, Hermione's native curiosity won out over her upset state, and she stopped crying as she asked what was happening.

McGonagall hushed the young witch, and continued for a moment longer. Then she stopped, and said, "That should do it."

The elder witch sat down at her desk, and sipped her own tea. She then reached into her desk and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid. She poured a bit into her own tea, and some into Hermione's. Hermione smelled the aroma of brandy, which her parents sometimes added to their own tea. She was a bit stunned that the professor was giving her some 'medicinal alcohol', and came to understand that this was to be a very important meeting.

McGonagall began with, "Miss Granger, what we are about to discuss must not leave this room. I just cast several layers of privacy and silencing charms, to make sure nothing can be heard outside the door, but you also need to recognise the need for secrecy."

Hermione was, to say the least, puzzled by this statement. Serious talk after being attacked, booze in her tea, and secrecy requirements. Most odd.

The professor leaned back in her chair and sighed, and Hermione thought her teacher looked very old at that moment.

The elder witch began again. "Miss Granger, I believe I should start by relating a meeting I had this last summer. As you may or may not know, there is an annual convention of witches involved in teaching at various schools around the world. With our society's reluctance to incorporate new information, techniques and methods into our curricula, this is for the most part, a gathering to bitch about the worst students of the past year, as well as all the patriarchal crap we have to put up with. However, some things do get accomplished, including sharing of new spells and such. There is a lot of just meeting with old friends and chatting."

"However, this year, I had a very interesting meeting with Olympe Maxine, who is the Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academie in southern France. I was given to understand that she had sent you an invitation letter to attend Beauxbatons, if you chose not to attend Hogwarts. I gather that, from your family's holidays in France, you can speak and understand the language sufficiently to attend school in that language. Personally, I was glad you chose Hogwarts. But…."

At this point, the teacher sighed, and passed a sealed envelope to the younger witch. The envelope bore the seal of the Academie des Beauxbatons, as had the letter she received during the previous summer.

McGonagall continued, sadly. "Hermione, by my receipt of this letter and the similar one addressed to myself, I am informed that it is now imperative that you leave Hogwarts at this point. Although human seers and clairvoyants are rare and seem to run in only a few families, among the centaurs divination is a precise science. Well, as precise as seeing the future can be. I have confirmed with the centaurs of the forbidden forest what those of the Broceliande Forest told Olympe, and they all agree. Quite emphatically, I might add. I have encountered only a few seers among our own kind, and with rare exceptions they are frauds and charlatans. However, I have never known the centaurs to be mistaken. Privately, I do wish it were otherwise."

"I have been told that there are cosmic forces at work in this, and that you must leave Hogwarts so that the future will turn out well, for all our peoples. Madame Maxine has indicated that the centaurs have gone as far as guaranteeing your tuition at Beauxbatons, or any other school of magic you wish to attend, as long as it is not here, not now. Apparently, this cusp in the flux of magic requires you to be elsewhere for about two and a half or three years – I gather three would be better to let the massive changes in our society calm down."

Hermione was shocked at this statement. "But how can I be that important? I just started learning magic. I don't know that much that could possibly cause any significant change."

McGonagall nodded. "Not to malign your native abilities, which are significant, but those were my thoughts as well. However, it was explained to me that your presence here at Hogwarts would be a focal point for the forces of magic, and would prevent some things happening which apparently must happen to prevent a complete collapse of the magical world as we know it. I must confess, Olympe showed me the divination calculations, and frankly they are beyond me. She is convinced they are solid."

"Now, I was told that the triggering event for this all was to be your encounter with an unknown entity, who would not be at all what you had been told. This revelation was to demonstrate to you some serious flaws in our society, and in the beliefs and assumptions that are pivotal to the way that British magical society works. I must assume, given I just received that letter which I gave you, carrying by an extremely tired owl I must add, that you encounter with the troll was that event."

Hermione shook her head. "How would my meeting Marshy change our world?"

McGonagall nodded sadly. "You had been told that trolls were dumb beasts who could not speak or understand, and that they were deadly threats to all humans. You found that at least one troll was essentially a scared little girl. You found that what you had been told as a fundamental understanding of the magical world was a lie. But a lie widely believed by those who don't want to find that they are wrong. What happened when the Headmaster and Professor Snape entered the room?"

Hermione teared up as she recalled, "They stunned her, even though I tried to stop them. And they didn't even bother to check if she was alive, figuring she was dead. And the Headmaster just wanted to dump her body by the forest for scavengers. They didn't care in the least."

The professor nodded sadly. "They saw a troll which they had been told, for their entire lives, was a dangerous creature who killed and ate humans. They were firm in their belief that this was the case, and that the troll they had stunned, and possibly killed, was unworthy of further consideration. They were willfully blind to something that might change their prejudices."

"Miss Granger, I have been teaching here for the better part of fourty years, and have seen all forms of lack of knowledge. Ignorance is no shame, as it is just a lack of information. Stupidity, on the other hand, is the intentional refusal to use the knowledge or intelligence you already have."

"Now, I don't know precisely why your presence here would impede the changes which seem to be necessary, but I cannot dispute that you have been a party to an event which shows a serious flaw in our understanding of our world. I gather things are going to change, and it is going to be very messy, and you need to be elsewhere for these things to happen."

"I don't know whether you are aware of it, but there is a standing policy of the Ministry of magic that if a muggle-born student chooses not to attend Hogwarts, or quits Hogwarts, she (in your case) and her entire family are obliviated so they don't retain any knowledge of the magical world. Apparently, the thought that someone might choose to attend a different magical school, someplace else, never crosses their small minds. Perhaps this is one of those things that is supposed to change. Be that as it may, I have been informed that arrangements have been made to prevent your family (or yourself for that matter) from being so treated."

"So, Miss Granger, I believe it is time for you to leave us. I have enjoyed being your teacher, and will miss you. I would appreciate a letter every now and then, and I must add that the next witch-teachers convention will be held in the south of France, so I may see you there. Now, you need to pack your things and let your family know the situation. I have been given a portkey for your use if you wish to go to Beauxbatons. If you want to attend Salem in America, Uluru School in Australia, the Rarotonga Academy in the Cook Islands, or others, I will need to arrange transportation. I am told that you need to be gone by the middle of November."

Hermione grimaced. "What about Malfoy's bunch? I would expect that they are going to come after me, looking for vengeance."

McGonagall laughed gently. "You heard the 'Kassandrakos' charm I put on them? It's an old Greek curse, actually mentioned obliquely in the Iliad by Homer. They will be able to speak the truth, but no one will believe a thing they say. I think they will find that Malfoy's influence in his house will evaporate very quickly, because all his claims of my involvement, and the attack on you, will be taken as so many lies by his housemates. Especially when the rumour gets around that they tried to attack a single muggle-born Gryffindor and she single-handedly kicked their collective butts."

Hermione smiled. "But Professor, I didn't, as you say, 'kick their butts'."

McGonagall smiled. "Ah, but that will be the rumour that is going around the castle by morning. You probably are unaware what terrible gossips house elves are. Even if I have to order them to do it."


	3. Loyalties

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 3: Loyalties**

The two Ministry Obliviators who apparated in front of the Granger House made the common mistake which had proved so fatal to many in the secret intelligence trade. They assumed no one was or could be as smart or capable as they were. Consequently, they did not notice the presence of the other four persons who were also present, but hidden under disillusion spells around the front and back of the house.

The agents of Office 2 ¾ of the French Secret Service had been on-station for several days, expecting this standard procedure of the British Ministry to occur within one or two days of the 'emigration' of a young witch and her enrollment at Beauxbatons. Their orders had come from very high offices, and implies the confidence of their superiors in their abilities to carry out what could almost be considered an act of war, were it not part of the ongoing covert nature of their secretive world. The exact timing had been uncertain, but the expected actions of Ministry personnel were nothing if not certain.

As the residents of the house were 'known' to be two muggles and an underage witch, the two did not bother to erect anti-apparition wards before they approached the house to remove all knowledge of the magical world from the minds of the Grangers. What they did not expect, in their extreme confidence and arrogance, was to be hit from two sides with stunning spells.

The two British operatives soon returned to their Ministry offices to file their after-action reports. The younger one was certain that he and his teammate had thoroughly obliviated two adult muggles and one young witch who had the temerity and stupidity to attempt to leave the magical world.

The older agent caressed the dark tattoo on his left forearm, firm in his conviction that, not only had he and his partner obliviated the three, but he had also raped the two women to make sure that these muggles 'knew their place' and that part of the evening would be remembered by them – this he reported to his true boss, and not to the one who just paid his salary.

When it was later discovered that Hermione had not even been in the country when the supposed memory charms were cast upon her, and that her parents were out of town as well, his credibility and loyalty to 'the cause' came under considerable question. Among the Death Eaters, questionable loyalty had some serious consequences.

Draco Malfoy and his entourage were not having a good day, week or month. When the four returned to the Slytherin dormitory, with Draco's nose bandaged up, Pansy's right arm in a heavy plaster cast (which was not lightened by weight-reducing spells), and the two thugs limping badly (in spite of Madame Pomfrey's 'best' efforts), the contempt of their housemates was palpable.

After Draco started his tirade about how that blood-traitor McGonagall had assaulted them when they tried to put the uppity mudblood in her place, Agnetha Mulciber snorted, and asked "Was that the uppity mudblood that just handed you all your asses? Maybe she knew one of those muggle fighting things, goofo or carroty or whatever. She obviously knew more about fighting than you lot put together. Good Merlin, four Slytherins beaten up by a muggle-born Gryffindor. Old Salazar is spinning in his grave for the shame you have brought on us all!""

Draco turned crimson in fury, and started yelling about "When my father hears…", when he was again sharply interrupted.

Julia McNair growled, "Yes your father. The traitor to our Lord, and a thief besides. He claims to be the most devoted follower, interim Great Leader of the Death Eaters, and really he is an even bigger liar than you four are!"

Pansy Parkinson went pale, as Draco turned even brighter red. As her friend was rendered speechless, she asked, "What do you mean, a traitor and thief?"

McNair shook her head. "You stupid bitch! In the war, the loyal followers of the Dark Lord fought and died, or went to Azkaban, loyally and proudly. What did the 'loyal' Lucius Malfoy do? He was the treasurer for the Death Eaters, and he bribed his way out of prison with Death Eater money, and claimed to under the 'Imperius' for years. Instead of spreading the money around to our people, he kept it all for himself so all of the others, like my Dad, had to get menial jobs for feed their families. Dad's Mark still showed that His Darkness was still around, but did Malfoy try to find him? No! Hell, no! He set himself up as the power behind the ministry, so he could become the next Dark Lord himself!"

Draco screamed "My father is loyal to the Dark Lord. He was using the money to keep the Death Eaters from being executed or imprisoned so that when the Dark Lord rises again, our world will be ready for him to take his rightful place."

Of course, the older Slytherins took Draco's new denial as absolute confirmation.

Elliot Avery shook his head sadly. "Draco, you are either as big a liar as your father, or you are an even bigger fool than everyone in this castle already thinks. I don't know why the Hat even let you into Slytherin, and not kicked your skinny butt out of the castle! And you can take your groupie and your bookends with you when you go! I would have called Parkinson 'your whore' but I suspect neither you nor her would be smart enough to know what to do if you were naked together."

The news of this conversation did not remain a Slytherin secret for long, in part because of the house elves listening in. When the rumour got all the way to Minerva McGonagall, she smiled. The second part of the future, foreseen by the centaurs, was now coming to pass and the future was heading in the right direction.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had snuck into the hidden room, past the giant three-headed dog, and down through a trap-door. Right now, Harry was wondering why he had let Ron talk him into this situation, as they were surrounded by vines which seemed to be trying to strangle them.

For some time now, Harry had been wondering why he thought coming to Hogwarts had been a good idea at all. A good part of his eagerness to move into the magic world had been that it was not the Dursleys' place and it was something that the Dursleys would have hated – those two points had made it seem like heaven on Earth. At first.

Now, it seemed like everything and everybody was conspiring to kill him – at least at the Dursleys' place, he knew what the threats were (Uncle Vernon, and Dudley and his gang). At Hogwarts, he had a mountain troll (which, in spite of what he was told, turned out to be no threat), being assaulted by Slytherins, getting beaten up by the other players and the bludgers when playing quidditch, being sent out into the Forbidden Forest after a monster that was killing unicorns, and now being strangled by a bloody plant!

Harry had also been wondered about why he and Ron did things together. Where Harry hated the public attention and the 'limelight', Ron was always desperately hungry for it. Ron had been a mystery to Harry initially, until he saw his friend getting harassed by his older brothers, and receiving a Howler from his mother. Ron would find all manner of ways to skive off homework and studying, and his resentment of Hermione Granger had been a puzzle.

Harry often wondered what had happened to the bushy-haired young witch that he had tried to save the previous autumn, discovering that she had not required saving at all, but did require catching so she did not hurt her head as she fainted. She had disappeared soon after that day, and had not been seen again. He had enquired about her from his Head of House, who smiled and told him that Miss Granger was in good health and would be informed of his concern.

Harry sometimes thought what it would have been like if Hermione had remained at Hogwarts, and whether they would have become friends. Growing up with the Dursleys, Harry had never been permitted to have friends, particularly girls (as his uncle and aunt were adamant that 'freaks like him' should never reproduce), and at Hogwarts, he had only a few close acquaintences. He was on reasonable terms with his dorm-mates, but spent most of his time with Ron Weasley.

He had noticed that when Ron saw the respect that his brother Percy commanded as House Prefect, and the attention that his wild twin brothers got for their mis-behaviour, even when they got a Howler from their mother, Ron would look desperate. When Ron or the twins mentioned their little sister, Ron looked a bit lost and alone.

Then Harry realized that, unlike himself who tried not to attract attention (and attacks), Ron was the youngest boy with five overachieving brothers and the son of an overbearing (in many ways) mother, all of whom were always telling him what to do. Ron was using the passive-aggressive reaction, of doing exactly the opposite of what he was told to do – if he was told to study, he would goof off, or find something else, anything else, to do, while resenting it the whole time. This partly explained why he had hated Hermione nagging him to do homework.

On top of this, he was desperate for whatever attention he could get, and hanging around with Harry seemed to get him into all manner of attention-getting situations. Sometimes, it was Ron who initiated the messes they got themselves into.

Ron had resented Hermione, because she was smart, overachieving like his brothers, and was always telling him what to do. On top of this, she was a girl, which Harry did not recognise at first was a contributing factor to Ron's reaction. Ron was the last son, born a year before his younger sister. All his life, Ron got the impression that his sister was the one his mother actually wanted, and he was the penultimate failure. This, and always being told to look after his little sister, had told him that she was more important than he was.

When Harry proved to be a natural flyer on a broom, and Professor McGonagall had coerced him into playing quidditch, Ron was ecstatic, and became his constant companion. Ron was obsessed with quidditch.

Harry loved the freedom of flying on his broom. It was something the Dursleys would never have allowed, and it was something he could do that people admired. For the first time, he was not the 'Boy-Who-Lived', but someone doing things to be proud of on his own.

However, he came to love and hate quidditch at the same time. Between the bludgers, the beaters, and the other team's seeker trying to drive him into the ground, it was as bad as getting beaten up by Dudley and his thugs. But Harry remembered hearing about a famous American test pilot who said that combat flying was the ultimate flying, and playing quidditch against Slytherin was as close to combat flying as Harry could (or wanted to) imagine.

As the vine tightened around his throat, Harry remembered the saying that as you die, your life flashes before you. In this retrospective view, he found that for most of his life, things had been done to him. Now at last, he was starting to do things himself. And now, it was perhaps too late.

As he was losing consciousness, he thought of his friends, and particularly of the bushy-haired witch who seemed so like him in many ways. Like him, Hermione was an outsider to wizarding society, and the unfounded assumptions had been made by so many who should have known better. In her case, it was her heritage that people looked down on.

In his, the magical world made assumptions based on something inexplicable that had happened on that Hallowe'en eleven years ago. That something had defined how people dealt with him, and nothing he did or said seemed to have any influence on how they treated him. And as far as he could figure out from the very limited clues that people were willing to reveal, it was nothing that he had done, other than survive.

Harry had often wondered how the wizarding world had known so much about him. He was the only one who had survived that fateful night, and he had certainly not been in a position to reveal his appearance or the shape of his scar. It was only during visits and discussions with Hagrid that he discovered that Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore had been almost the only magical people that had seen him after the murder of his parents and the destruction of Voldemort's body – it had become readily apparent that Hagrid was completely unable to keep secrets, especially when he had a mug of ale in his hand. This last fact had led to Ron and Harry's arrival at their current predicament, when Hagrid informed them of how to keep 'Fluffy' asleep.

Another way he and Hermione were the same was that both had come to the world of magic with a sense of wonder and anticipation, a sense that most of their pure-blood classmates did not seem to have, seeing the world of wizardry with a deep complaisance. They both were also deeply disappointed to find that the magical world was occupied by the same mix of wonderfully open and narrow-minded nasty people that they had encountered in the mundane world.

He found that he missed Hermione, very badly. Ron may have hated her for nagging him to do his homework, but she was really smart. Perhaps she would have been able to figure out a way around the vines which were currently cutting off his airways, or to get them t stop trying to kill him. Or maybe, she might have been able to talk the two of them out of the incredibly stupid idea of two first-years trying to protect something that a castle of fully trained and experienced wizards and witches were in charge of looking after. Right now, either option was sounding good.

Just as Harry was about to completely lose consciousness, he felt a searing pan from his forehead. Blood poured down his face from his scar, and Harry could dimly see a black cloud leaving his face.

At this point, the strangling vine perceived part of a soul leaving Harry's body. Not being the brightest semi-sentient plant in the greenhouse, the Devil's Snare assumed that Harry and Ron had both died (Ron having passed out shortly before). With this occurrence and the total relaxation of their bodies, the vine released its hold and they slid to the floor below. This is where the school staff found them, after the Gryffindor prefects reported them missing.


	4. Revelations

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 4: Revelations**

Much to his surprise and relief, Harry Potter awoke in his usual bed in the infirmary wing of Hogwarts castle. To his surprise, at his bedside was his Head of House, Minerva McGonagall. She had a profoundly disgusted look on her face, and a number of letters in her hand. She smiled slightly, and said, "Welcome back to the world of the living, Mr. Potter, in spite of your best efforts. We need to chat, you and I."

Through his insulted throat, Harry rasped "What happened?"

The professor scowled and said "Apparently, you had a small piece of Voldemort's soul lodged in that scar of yours. Something the Headmaster has suspected for some time, but did not see fit to tell any of those who thought that he had complete trust in them, who trusted him, and who might have been able to help. Those such as myself, although I apparently was flattering myself."

"Since around a year or two before the time of your birth or your first encounter with the Dark Lord, the Headmaster has been, shall I say, in failing mental health. Perhaps a number of small strokes, perhaps not. Personally, I have suspected that your parent's murder came as a complete shock to him, and may have precipitated a moderate or major stroke on top of whatever was going on before – after all, it was he who had advised them to hide in Godric's Hollow, and he cast the Fidelius spell that was supposed to have protected them, and you."

"I am not quite seventy years old myself, and I am already finding the cold winter winds in this castle are starting to make my bones ache. Harry, none of us last forever, and Albus Dumbledore is over a hundred and fifty years old. Even for a very powerful wizard, he is a very old man. He has been worthy of great respect in the past, but his greatness is past. Unfortunately, his reputation is such (and not without reason, given his past worthy actions) that no one until now has called him out on it."

"He has kept claiming that Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain, and you must be here or at your family's house, for your protection. Yet there you were abused by your family, and he did nothing in spite of my original warning that they were completely unsuitable. And here, you have been attacked, and almost died last evening."

"It turns out that Professor Quirrel was partly possessed by Voldemort's spirit. And the great Professor Dumbledore never detected it. Fortunately, it seems that the portion of the Dark Lord inhabiting the back of Quirrel's head was extremely weak, to the point where it could push him to do things, but not completely overwhelm the man's inherent caution and timidity. Thus, he could not attack you directly, but he was the one who let the troll into the castle. The 'bad pinky' the young troll spoke of."

"One sign that the Headmaster had finally lost it completely was that he showed absolutely no curiosity about who had let the troll in. Another was that he brought that artifact, that you and Mr. Weasley correctly deduced was the Philosopher's Stone, into a school filled with innocent students that he was charged to protect, to try draw the Dark Lord's shade out into the open."

"Harry, last night, I had it out with Albus Dumbledore. I have served as a teacher at this school for fourty years, and fought by his side through the first war against Voldemort. I was his second-in-command, and yet he failed to trust me with important information, and he stood there and lied to me about the nature of your scar!"

"When I complained about his actions, or lack thereof, repeatedly putting you in danger, and suggested that you be sent to somewhere outside the country for your own protection, he told me that there was a prophecy that you and the Dark Lord were destined to confront each other, and so you had to stay here. You haven't met her yet, but the prophecy was made by Sybil Trelawney who is our Divination professor – she is a complete incompetent in my opinion. I don't know if she cast a _Confundus_ spell on him, or flattered an old man's fancy, but he bought it, hook, line and sinker."

"As Deputy Headmistress, it should have been my job to check her credentials, but Albus had hired her immediately after her making her prophecy to him. A prophecy which was overheard in part by a young Death Eater who passed on the part he heard to the dark Lord, who then believed it. It was his belief that gave the prophecy whatever power it has."

"After she was hired, I did check her background. She has my sympathy for her troubles, but certainly no respect. It turns out that she was a complete drunk, a total fraud and charlatan. Her meeting with the Headmaster came after she had been fired from her job as a fortune-teller by every circus in Europe, for incompetence. They told me they caught her practicing the eyes rolling back, the raspy voice and all the signs of a real prophet making a prediction, and then laughing about it. Getting a position here was her last hope for a steady job, and so the Headmaster had to be given a 'true prophecy'. Anything less, and she would be out on the street, another hopeless pitiful drunk peddling whatever she had of value to whoever was paying."

"I wouldn't wish that future on anyone, but that does not qualify her for a teaching job. A pension in a nursing home perhaps, but not what Albus gave her. His hiring her just made the prophecy appear even more genuine to the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord's belief in the prophecy is what led to your parents' murder and the incapacitation of Mr. Longbottom's mother and father!"

"When I pointed out all these facts, Albus tried to '_Obliviate'_ me! Fortunately, the magic of Hogwarts itself blocked his spell. The castle's magic recognised my years of loyal service, and that I spoke the truth. However, his action broke my last trust in him."

Handing Harry the letters she held, she said "Harry, I am leaving Hogwarts, and I suggest you do so too. Here is a letter from the Headmistress at Beauxbatons school in France, inviting you to come there - that is where your friend Miss Granger has gone. They have also offered me a teaching position there, which I am going to take."

"These other letters are invitations from other schools around the world, should you decided to go elsewhere. "

"Mr. Potter, or Harry if I may be so informal, I need to ask you a rather personal question. However, in order for you to provide a properly informed answer, I must tell you a little of your personal history. Please hear me out first."

He nodded, apprehensively.

She began. "Well, about twenty years ago, among the other students entering Hogwarts, there were five young wizards and one beautiful and brilliant young witch. For those who think such things matter, the witch was muggle-borne, one of the wizards was a half-blood and the other four were pure-bloods. Contrary to what most of the pure-blood believers would think would be a given, the half-blood wizard was sorted into Slytherin House, where due to the rampant bigotry there, he kept his heritage a secret from his housemates. The four pure-blood wizards, again contrary to the prejudiced view of things, were all sorted into Gryffindor, as was the young witch. I had just been made Head of Gryffindor, and I took some pains to get to know my new charges.

The half-blood wizard and the witch had been childhood friends, but in his hunger to fit in with his housemates, he started spouting off the same pure-blood drivel as his cohorts, and eventually went very bad. Because of this behaviour, and the inter-house rivalries, his friendship with the young witch fell apart. I suspect that he still harbours feelings of lost friendship and jealousy for the man she eventually married. After graduating, he took the Dark Mark of the followers of Voldemort – to be granted this 'honour', you have to commit a cold-blooded murder."

"The four pure-blood wizards became renowned pranksters and bullies. They became known as 'The Marauders', and tormented students from Slytherin, including the half-blood lad. They were extremely close, as close as brothers. One of them had the misfortune of having been bitten by were-wolf as a child, and was turned himself. The other three, out of loyalty I suppose, studied hard and learned to become animagi, like myself. One could become a stag, one a large dog, and one a rat. In these forms, they could keep their friend company during his monthly periods of transformation."

As time passed, these students grew up, and their behaviour became more reputable, if I can call it that. One of the Gryffindor lads and the witch fell in love in their last year here, and married soon after. They were your mother and father, Harry. The other three attended the wedding, which was near the start of the first war against Voldemort."

"Your father and two of his friends, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, joined the fight against Voldemort by joining the Aurors. Due to their prankish nature, they were all assigned to the Hit Wizards group, which were the ones who carried out the more dangerous raids and rough-and-tumble jobs. I believe in the muggle police, they would have been called members of the SWAT team."

"When you were born, Sirius Black became your godfather."

Harry was shocked. "I have a godfather. Why did I have to live with the Dursleys then? Why did he abandon me?"

The professor smiled sadly. "I'm getting to that." She sighed.

"As Hit Wizards, they led the fight against Voldemort. Your parents, and Sirius, also joined a group called The Order of the Phoenix, under the leadership of Headmaster Dumbledore. I was a senior member of the Order as well. As members of these groups, your parents and Black were under threat from the followers of Voldemort, who call themselves Death Eaters."

The war was brutal. This school was built to hold up to a thousand students, yet only about three hundred now attend. More than two-thirds of the wizarding population could be said to be 'missing'. Our people had not really recovered in numbers from the First World War, after which there were entire villages with no young men for many years – had my own father not been working in the shipyards on the Clyde in what were considered essential services, I probably would not even have been born. Now a goodly number of magical people did emigrate to escape the war, but the war claimed almost a third of the magical people in Britain. Most of these were massacred by Voldemort and his cohorts.

This is why Voldemort's name was so feared that almost no-one dares speak it to this day. And this is why you were so famous, because you put paid to Voldemort, and effectively stopped the war and the murders, however it happened – our people were ecstatic that a mere babe had somehow defeated the worst Dark Lord this country had seen in centuries.

"When you were just over a year old, we learned of a specific threat against your family as well as the family of your classmate Neville Longbottom. It turns out that the Dark Lord learned of the phony prophecy and he believed it. Neville's parents were also in the aurors and the Order, and you both were born near the end of July, fitting the conditions of the prophecy."

You and your parents went into hiding, supposedly protected by the Fidelius spell, which was cast by the Headmaster. This spell prevents anyone knowing whatever secret is being protected, except those who have been told the secret by the secret-keeper. The Headmaster was going to do the same for the Longbottoms, but the Death Eaters got there first, and tortured Neville's parent into insanity."

"It turned out that one of your father's group of friends had been secretly recruited into Voldemort's ranks. Against the expectations of most who knew them, Peter Pettigrew had been the secret-keeper for the Fidelius spell, and not Sirius Black. Sirius had been the closest to your parents, and everyone who knew of it expected he would be the secret-keeper. He thought that he was far too obvious a choice for just that reason, and so Peter was chosen. Peter betrayed the secret to Voldemort and he attacked your family, killing your parents."

"We believe that he tried to kill you, too, but somehow failed. No-one knows exactly how. That is where you got the title of 'The Boy-Who-Lived'. He had used the killing curse, but somehow it failed to kill you, but it gave you that scar."

"When your parents died, the Fidelius failed, and we suddenly all knew where your family was hiding. "I don't know why the Headmaster expected something to happen or why he assigned me that specific task, but he had me watch your aunt and uncle for a full day, on the day your parents died. Lately, I have been wondering more and more about why he had me do that, and I don't like some of the answers I am coming up with."

"Anyway, after the Fidelius failed, the Headmaster, Hagrid and your godfather immediately went to the house, and found you in the wreckage. In spite of your parents explicit wishes that Sirius be given custody of you, and failing that, that I should take care of you, and that under no conditions should you be given to your aunt's family, the Headmaster insisted vehemently that you must be given to your aunt to look after."

"He refused to say why he was adamant that you go to those people, which I told him clearly were the worst sort of magic-hating muggles."

"Your godfather was furious at Dumbledore, but could not budge him. I was told, by Hagrid later, that they had drawn their wands and were about to duel, when Sirius declared that if he couldn't look after you as he had promised your dead parents, he was at least going to avenge them. He gave his motorbike to Hagrid, and took off after Peter, as he knew Peter had to be the traitor, and he knew where Peter tended to hang out."

""Well, he found Peter Pettigrew in muggle London, and they dueled. I guess when trained hit wizards duel, it can get very messy. In the fight, twelve muggles were killed, and it appeared that Peter had been obliterated, leaving only a finger. Sirius was arrested and immediately thrown into Azkaban prison. In the uproar after the murder of your parents, and the seeming destruction of Voldemort, he was thrown into prison without any sort of trial. Knowing them as I did, in spite of not being present at the events in question, I knew in my heart that there was absolutely no way that Sirius could have ever betrayed your parents, because if he had, the oath he took taken when he became your godfather would have killed him!"

"Although Professor Dumbledore knew that Sirius was innocent, in spite of him being in a position to remedy this injustice, he did nothing. Nothing! So instead of taking you into his care, Sirius Black has been in Azkaban prison for the last eleven years, and as the story of the Boy-Who-Lived grew, so did the public assumption that Sirius Black as a multiple murderer."

"One other very disturbing fact about this is that no other wizard has _ever_ been imprisoned, or even arrested, for killing muggles. Among the more stogy of our world, muggles are considered certain less than human, or even vermin. Consider for example how your friend Miss Granger has been treated, for being muggle-born even though she has the makings of a very powerful witch. Now, unless the very first humans were magical, we all had muggle ancestors, in spite of what some of the pure-bloodists believe."

"Anyway, your godfather has not been in any kind of position to look after you, and I was informed in no uncertain terms that you had to be left with your relatives. When I pointed out to the Headmaster that your mother had explicitly wanted me to take you, should your godfather not be able to do so, he said that he would use his considerable political power to block any of my attempts to establish guardianship of you. He said he had his reasons, but would never explain why."

McGonagall took a deep breath and sighed. "Harry, your mother was one of my favourite students, although I really didn't care much for your father. She and I became good friends, and when she married your Dad, I officiated at the ceremony. I loved her like I love my own granddaughters. She asked me, that if anything happened to her and James, and Sirius was not in a position to do so, that _I_ look after you. When they were murdered, I tried to take custody of you, but I was overruled by the Headmaster, who insisted (for reasons he would not divulge at the time and still will not say) that you be placed with your relatives, and we know how that worked out."

"Harry, if you agree to it, I would like you to come to Beauxbatons with me, and allow me to formally adopt you, so no-one can take you away from me again, in spite of the Headmaster's political clout. His influence is rather less outside Britain. I promised your mother I would take care of you, and I would like the belated opportunity to fulfil my pledge to her. Will you allow that?"

Harry thought for a moment and then said "Yes, I will. Gladly. But Beauxbatons? I can't speak French. How can I go to school in that language?"

Professor McGonagall smiled. "Let me tell you about the universal translation spell. It lets you understand any language. Some of our older muggle-borns call it the 'Babel Fish' spell, for some reason." Then looking around the room rather sadly she added "I have spent the better part of my life within these walls. I thought to be here my whole life, but no more. It is time to go."


	5. Purges

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 5**: **Purges**

Lord Voldemort was furious. He had spent the last eleven years so weakened by his first encounter with Harry Potter that he could only possess animals or very weak-minded wizards. The thought of possessing witches or worse, muggles, was abhorrent to him.

The wizard he currently 'inhabited', Professor Quirinus Quirrel, was pathetic. He became a Master of Defense only because he was so terrified of even his own shadow that he had needed the strongest magics he could learn, just to leave his house each morning. Voldemort mentally chuckled as he thought that Quirrel put the coward in 'cower'.

In his long years of 'exile', he had thought through his main problem, which was his severe weakness. He had come to the conclusion that, largely due to the serious lack of detailed and credible information about creating horcruxes, he had not realized that every time he made one, his soul was divided in half.

After his first creation of a horcrux, through the murder of Myrtle Farnsworth with the basilisk, he had not made another for a couple of years. By that point, he had created the Dark Mark, and had a number of followers. His Death Eaters were unaware that their Marks were drawing on their power and feeding it to the Dark Lord they followed.

By the time he created the rest of his seven horcruxes, he had so many followers (from whom he was sucking their magical power) that he did not notice that he himself was getting weaker.

When he attacked the Potters at the height of his power, he had not intended to create an eighth horcrux, but in the curse that killed Lily Potter, his weakened soul split again. In trying to kill the baby, he was suddenly too weak to cast the curse properly, and the separated portion of his soul had lodged in the scar adorning the baby's forehead.

The shade of Voldemort lost his body with its Master Mark, and so could not draw any more power from his disciples. He was left with only one two hundred and fifty sixth of his original soul, and no power to re-integrate himself. And no way of regaining that power.

Now he was lodged in the head of Professor Quirrel, who was sufficiently weak-minded that Voldemort could at least gently compel him into some actions, and this led to his attempt to seize the Philosopher's Stone, and maybe regain some of his power through this potent magical artifact.

While 'in residence' in Quirrel's head, he had also become aware to the current activities of Lucius Malfoy, who was supposed to have been his most loyal follower.

Now, by a most fortunate twist of fate, Harry Potter had tried to get to the Philosopher's Stone as well, and apparently had died in the attempt, releasing the soul fragment from his forehead. The fragment had rejoined its owner, instantly doubling his power – the prophecy had proved false, as a number of his more sycophantic followers had always declared! Now he had the power to control Quirrel almost completely, and now he would punish Malfoy for his disloyalty.

But first, he would go to Malfoy Manor, and retrieve the diary which was his first Horcrux. He had given this to the wizard who had been his most trusted servant, but without telling him of its significance. With his first Horcrux, he would regain a full half of his original soul, and be even stronger than he was when he first founded the Death Eaters.

And then, and only then, Lucius Malfoy would die in extreme pain.

Harry Potter was dead, Dumbledore was growing weaker by the day, and there would be nothing to stand in his path to total domination. He could not be defeated.

Lucius Malfoy paced in his study – he was a very worried wizard. Since Hallowe'en, when Draco lost his credibility within Slytherin House, the other Death eaters who remained free had become incredibility insolent. Those he had helped escape residency in Azkaban no longer showed him the respect that was his proper due. They were now complaining that he should share the galleons that he had hoarded to ensure that the appropriate people at the Ministry remained deeply in his pockets, and that awkward questions from the DMLE consistently failed to get answered.

They had ceased appreciating that his actions had kept them free, and that the proper course of the wizarding world was proceeding as it should. Mudbloods and half-bloods were kept out of positions of authority, and Unforgivables were being forgiven. The weak-minded fools did not appreciate that he and he alone was moving their world in the directions that the Dark Lord had wanted.

Some of the old crowd were getting completely out of line, and were even starting to threaten him. He knew that some of his 'colleagues' were, if not more ruthless, at least less subtle than himself. There was now a serious risk of assassination by those who had been his friends and allies, and who now seemed to think he was betraying 'The Cause'. There was also a serious threat that someone might try to break in to the Manor, and steal the treasures that were being held in trust for the Dark Lord, treasures and galleons which were the spoils of successful attacks on the unworthy, tribute from supporters, and 'donations' from Ministry coffers. Far-be-it from him to trust these funds to those sub-human parasites, the goblins, who might at any time decide to comply with DMLE dictates to freeze all accounts held by known Death Eaters (whether pardoned or not).

In light of the increasing threats, he had 'suggested' to Cornelius Fudge that a squad of Dementors be stationed around the Manor, in case that someone take it into their heads to act. Two of these demons were posted just outside his office door.

When they _are_ out to get you, it's not paranoia.

Besides his work keeping the Ministry impotent, he was using his position on Hogwarts' Board of Governors to advance the agenda. Once more, his motion to prevent the muggle-born and half-bloods from attending, and reserving magical education to the members of the pure and worthy families, had been defeated by the blood traitors and Dumbledore's sycophants.

However, his son's efforts seemed to be bearing fruit. Draco had sent letters detailing how he and other true believers had informed the know-it-all mudblood that her presence was unacceptable to the people who really mattered, and within days she had fled from the school. Now word had come that the blood traitor McGonagall, and the shameful excuse for a wizard Potter, had also been driven from the school. Whatever else was going wrong, this was good news.

Now he was in his study, staring at the tattoo on his left forearm. It had started to tingle, as his had not done since that abomination Potter had somehow defeated the Dark Lord over a decade ago. Lucius was sure that this meant that his Lord had found some way to return from wherever he had been driven. If this was the case, he would soon be restored to his respected position among the Death Eaters, and his Heir, who was currently convalescing in his bedroom upstairs after the severe beatings that he had endured (rumoured to be at the hands of other Slytherins, but this of course was impossible and it was more likely those misbegotten Gryffindors), would be restored to his position within Hogwarts as the prime example of what a young wizard should be.

Lucius worried the other Death Eaters, who had recently lost so much respect for him and his authority, might act before the dark Lord returned to power, so that they might take his place at their Lord's right hand. Once the Dark Lord returned, he was sure that all would be well.

His wife had just entered the room when there was a loud 'pop' announcing the uninvited and unexpected apparition of Professor Quirrel. How this pathetic loser could have apparated through the formidable wards around the manor was something which would need to be answered in blood.

At Narcissa's scream at the unexpected arrival, the two dementor guards quickly moved towards the quivering little man, and the rest of the dementor squad rushed into the room. At the sight of the dementors, the timid man panicked as he also screamed, pulled his wand, and shouted "Fiend-fyre!', being the only spell he knew which would destroy the demons. With this casting came a voice Lucius had known well from years before, screaming "No!" and apparently coming from under Quirrel's turban

Fiend-fyre was also a spell that could consume everything else it touched, including souls. The infernal fire spread throughout Malfoy Manor, consuming the two dementors which were in the building at the time, the three members of the Malfoy family (minus their house elves who wisely popped away), Quirrel and his unwelcome passenger, the hidden diary containing a full half of Voldemort's soul, and two hundred million galleons of plundered and otherwise ill-gotten gold.

Although several horcruxes remained, the core personality part of Tom Riddle's soul had ceased to exist. Without the core, the horcruxes were impotent.

The obliteration of the Death Eaters' treasury would have implications.

Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had been seeking the location of Lucius Malfoy's residence for some years. Back at the end of the Voldemort War, a decade ago, she had been part of a team that had searched the manor of the confirmed Death Eater, before it was 'determined' by her superiors that Lucius had been under the Imperius, and therefore proclaimed 'not guilty' of the numerous crimes he had committed. Less than a year later, none of the DMLE had been able to remember where the luxurious manor house was located, which Amelia assumed indicated that a Fidelius spell had been cast on the place, a fact which she found extremely suspicious.

Now, suddenly, Amelia could recall where the house was. This was evidence that the Fidelius had failed for some reason. Most likely the death of the spell-caster or that whatever the secret was that had been protected had become irrelevant.

She immediately apparated to the location (now that she could remember the coordinates) with three of her most trusted aurors, and found the ruins of the once magnificent building. There had obviously been a substantial amount of gold hidden within, which had evaporated when the building burned, as the surfaces of everything for a radius of half a kilometre was coated with a fine layer of re-condensed gold.

The law enforcement team quickly cast spells stripping the gold from the ground, retrieving better than a ton of the stuff. This would rest in the DMLE's most secure evidence storage until their investigation was complete.

In her cell at Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange looked down at her left forearm. She had felt the surge as a greater part of her magic, which she had bound to the Dark Lord, seemed to leave her. She watched as her dark Mark tattoo started to fade, the snake disappearing first, and then only leaving the outline of the skull on her pale skin. For eleven years now, her only purpose in life had been to wait loyally for her Master to free her so they could resume their reign of terror. Now, she knew this last hope had been in vain, and she had no cause to live any longer.

Bellatrix dug under her mattress and found the rock which she had sharpened by striking it with other stones from the floor of her cell, flaking off pieces until it had a razor-sharp edge. She had amused herself by using this primitive blade to torture the rats and mice that entered her dwelling place, first causing them the pain which was her prime joy in life, and then butchering them to supplement her meager prison diet with a bit of protein.

For the first time in years, she started to cry. If she could not follow her Lord in life, she would join him in death. With this thought the last thing in her mind, she firmly drew her small blade across her throat.

Cornelius Fudge had long been an advocate and practitioner of the trickle-down theory of corruption. The sudden disappearance of Lucius Malfoy (and his frequent contribution of galleons) left Fudge in a precarious condition. There were a lot of people within the Ministry who expected that Fudge would continue his largesse, not knowing, or really caring, the ultimate source of the funds on which their lavish lifestyles now depended.

One such had just entered Fudge's office, and she was in a very bad mood. Deloris Umbridge had gains and maintained her position at the Ministry by knowing where all the skeletons were buried. This was in part due to the fact that she had had a hand in burying them herself. She had not received her weekly stipend and had come to Fudge's office, not to find out why the payment was overdue, but to remedy that fact immediately if not sooner. She also had people to pay off, and they were getting hungry too.

If the funds did not continue to flow, who knew what secrets might get out of their closets.

The short harridan of a witch stood in front of Fudge's desk, shrieking like a banshee and demanding both her weekly donative but those for the next three weeks as well, as punitive damages. As Fudge had only his personal fortune to draw from, he was in no mood or position to comply.

Umbridge, finding that the moneys were not forthcoming as she expected and demanded, drew her wand with the intent to cast the 'Imperius'. It was an Unforgivable spell, but she had gotten away with it many times before and was sure she could again.

With this imminent threat to his continued health, Fudge looked over towards his collection of weapons disguised as letter openers, which sat on his side table. He uttered the command "Accio Dagger', and one of the items changed back into the Arabian dagger he had 'liberated' from the Topkapi Palace, and flew towards his outstretched hand.

Umbridge, seeing his concentration was no longer on her, but on something to her left side, turned towards where he was looking. For once her timing was impeccable, and she turned into the path of the razor-sharp weapon. Before she could cast a shield spell, the dagger imbedded itself in her throat severing her spinal cord, and Deloris Umbridge's tenure as the power behind the throne at the Ministry abruptly ended, as did she.

With the freshly killed body leaking all over his Persian carpet, Fudge screamed for his newly hired assistant. Percy Weasley had just passed his OWL's and was interning at the Ministry in hopes of a long political career. His reputation was that he would instantly follow commands – this reputation was slightly erroneous in that Percy followed commands to the letter, but only when they were in accordance with the well set-out and legal rules.

Mr. Weasley entered the Minister's office, and as Fudge shouted at him to clean up the mess and tell nobody, he quickly drew his wand and stupefied the officious fool. From the young wizard's brief observations, this situation was definitely across the line of legality, as well as far above his pay grade (as an intern) to resolve. A floo call was immediately placed to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, as it was readily apparent that mischief had been done.

As it was the Minister's office, Weasley's call quickly brought the head of the DMLE and ten aurors to the office. Fudge's office was immediately sealed after the Minster was arrested and led away. Identifying the body on the rug, Deloris Umbridge's office was also sealed so that no pertinent evidence could somehow go missing, as had been the case too many times before.

Several disillusioned filing cabinets were found in each of the two offices, containing a wealth of information. Umbridge had been a consummate bureaucrat, and had kept excellent records of all the bribes and skullduggery. These records were, of course, for her own use as fodder for blackmail, extortion, and other means by which she had kept and advanced her career.

As they had been ordered to do, Kingsley Shacklebolt Hestia Jones, and Cadet Auror Nymphadora Tonks entered their boss's office after their entrance was allowed. Madame Bones looked up from her desk and sharply ordered, "Put your wands and badges on my desk. On the desk, there are three vials containing Veritaserum. You each will take one of the vials and drink, or else provide a wizards' oath to tell the truth as I demand it. Refusal to do either, and this will be the last time you see your wands, your badges or a Ministry paycheck. Am I understood?

The two women nodded, reached for the vials and drank, while the tall black-skinned Auror held up his hand and took the oath (he hated the taste of Veritaserum).

Amelia Bones nodded, and slid two photographs across her desk to the three. One showed the Order of the Phoenix in1980, showing the Potters, the Prewitt Bothers, and several others who had not survived the Voldemort War - prominently visible in the photo were a younger Shacklebolt and Jones. The second photograph appeared to be taken within the last year, and showed all three Aurors. Dumbledore was seated in the front of the first row in the pictures.

Amelia asked, "Are these pictures of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix?" All three responded "Yes".

Bones asked, "What was the purpose of this group?" Shacklebolt, as the senior present answered, "It was organized to fight Voldemort and all his followers, and to protect those he was attacked, while the Ministry did nothing. Later, protection of Harry Potter was added to our goals." The two female officers nodded in agreement.

The Head then asked, "As part of this group, did you cast any spells or curses which would be outside your functions as Aurors?" The three shook their heads, indicating they had not. Jones admitted that they had performed Obviations on muggles, but that was within their normal practice as Aurors.

Amelia then asked, "As part of this group, were you required to take an oath of secrecy? And were you required to take an oath of loyalty to Albus Dumbledore?"

Tonks (who hated her given name for some unexplained reason) said "We did take oaths of secrecy, to protect us and each other from spies and Voldemort's followers, but we took no oath of loyalty to Dumbledore. Nobody thought it necessary. I mean, he's Dumbledore. He's a Great Wizard."

Amelia nodded sadly. "Ah, yes, he's Dumbledore, or rather he _was_ Dumbledore, at one time. The last fifteen years, he has been making some serious errors, and putting lives in danger. We are at a turning point, and I need to know who I can trust. If you are to remain aurors from this point, you need to resign from his 'bird-watching' club, and your loyalty has to be to enforce the law without any other impediments or biases. Can you do this?"

Jones asked, "Does this mean you want us to take a personal oath of loyalty to you?"

Bones shook her head forcefully. "Merlin, no! We've got too damned many private armies in this building. That's what we need to stop. If I wanted that kind of oath, I would be no better than they are. I want to clean the corruption out. Completely. Will you help?"

All three stood a little bit taller, and agreed to their boss's terms.

Amelia then said, "Thank you all for this. There are a number of people we are going to have to arrest, mostly on very serious corruption charges. Unfortunately, within our own ranks, there are a few whose loyalty is solely due to their appointments and advancement by favoritism or political influence. We need to clean these out, and it needs to be done quickly and quietly. Can you help me do this?"

All three readily agreed. They had seen the Department's credibility deteriorate badly as Fudge's paranoia and Umbridge's scheming had grown, and they didn't like it. It was time to clean house.

Amelia floo'd her secretary and asked her "Please send them in."

Two tall persons dressed in wizards' robes with deep cowls entered the room. Their faces were hidden by their cloaks. They were unusually tall, but whether this was due to footwear to enhance their mystique, no one knew.

Amelia turned to her aurors and explained. "These two are Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries. One is a Hypermaster of Potions, and the other is a Hypermaster of Mind Magics. I do not know their names, nor do I need to. Now, you all know that the normal legal dose of Veritaserum is three drops, and this is what is used in most cases for evidence. However, I have asked about certain special circumstances."

Turning to the two newcomers, she asked, "You are familiar with the questions I asked you to research?" The two nodded.

The shorter of the two spoke, and the four aurors were startled by the fact it was a female voice from under the cowl. Again, whether this was an artifact to disguise their identity was unknown.

The voice said, "You asked about whether the standard dose could penetrate or retrieve memories which were hidden by obliviation spells. It will not. For that, a dose of five drops is required."

"You also asked what dose was required to overcome powerful mind block spells, such as might be put in place by a dark lord looking to protect his secrets. Our research has shown that this could take seven to eight drops, depending on the strength of the wizard or witch involved." The voice chuckled a bit. "A dose of ten drops, and they can recall and describe what their mother's vagina looked like as they were being born."

Amelia's face took on a very cold visage. "What dose will cause permanent brain damage?"

The voice of the second unspeakable spoke. "Anything more than twelve drops will damage the brain to the point where future function is impaired. Fifteen or more drops is fatal in all cases, after a period of thirty minutes of telling you everything they ever knew or thought they knew, including any secrets protected by the more powerful of oaths.

The aurors shuddered as they thought about how this information had been obtained. Perhaps these people _were_ unspeakable.

Bones thanked the two, who then left the office, still without identifying themselves. She then turned to her staff and said, "We are going to arrest and question two high-ranking Death Eaters. Prepare two doses of ten drops each. We don't know what blocks have been put on them by the Dark Lord, and we need to know what they know, and fast! Aurors, get it done."

Walden McNair and Aldous Yaxley were chatting and laughing, describing (after some prompting from Amelia Bones) the parties that the Death Eaters had held, torturing and sexually abusing muggles of both genders. Tonks and Jones were writing all the information down as rapidly as they could, and in particular, noting all the names. Form what they had recorded so far, the two Death Eaters were destined for nothing less than a dementor's kiss, when a surprising bit of knowledge came out.

McNair recounted a story that Peter Pettigrew had been telling, when Madame Bones interrupted. "But Peter Pettigrew is dead, killed by Sirius Black!"

McNair and Yaxley looked at each other and guffawed. Yaxley smiled at Bones and sniggered. "Yes, oh yes, Sirius Black. The Dark Lord loved Pettigrew's prank on all you fools! And it just keeps getting better!"

"Pettigrew and Black fought, Pettigrew blew up some muggles and cut off a finger, like the Japanese gangsters and then transformed into his 'rat' body . In your panic after the Dark Lord's murder of the Potters, they arrested the best Hit Wizard that your Ministry ever had, and threw him in prison without questioning him and without a trial, and left him in Azkaban to rot."

"Meanwhile, Pettigrew is passing on all the information about upcoming government raids on Death Eater houses, giving us enough warning to move all the stuff we really don't want you to find. He's getting that right from the guy planning the raids!"

Bones scowled. "Are you telling me we have another traitor here?"

McNair almost fell over laughing. "No, Pettigrew has been hiding out as a pet rat in the Weasley's home, and Arthur talks in his sleep. And this year, the youngest Weasley boy went to Hogwarts with his pet rat, so we're getting information from inside what that idiot Dumbledore still claims is the safest place in the country. And for all the collection of supposedly brilliant people on your side, no one ever bothered to wonder how a rat would still be alive after eleven years, when a normal rat's life expectance is only three years at most. Merlin, you people are stupid! Sometimes, I really wonder why the Dark Lord would want to rule you. Blood Traitors and idiots, all of you!"

Madame Bones called Percy Weasley into her office, and instructed him to find the documents relating to the imprisonment of one Sirius Back.

The lowest ranks of the Death Eaters had been recruited for their viciousness and their belief in the Pure Blood agenda, not for their intelligence. As more and more of the high level Death Eaters were arrested and incarcerated, more and more of the lower ranks saw the opportunity for them to become the next Dark Lord themselves. During a revolution or coup, the opportunities for rapid advancement were good. However, the competition was fierce, as marked gangs fought it out using the deadliest of curses.

This had the net effect of saving the DMLE a lot of work as the gangs of criminals whose skill with the Killing Curse outweighed their intelligence wiped out over a hundred of Voldemort's least important supporters. The newly cleansed DMLE did not interfere with these internecine battles, as their attitude was that the remaining Death Eaters were doing their job for them.

The trials were held in front of what remained of the full Wizengamot. Fully a third of the ruling body of the British wizarding world was missing from those trying the cases, as the rest were on trial themselves. About thirty actually were Marked, some have provided financial or logistical support to Voldemort, and the rest were guilty of accepting and passing bribes. The rest had been under Umbridge's influence and were found guilty of various criminal acts or obstructing the proper functioning of the DMLE.

Near the end of the session, Bones presented the case of Sirius Black. Given the testimony of the Death Eaters, and the documents from the Ministry's archives, she was immediately ordered to direct his release – the usual pardon could not be granted, as there had been no conviction to pardon. Black was, by unanimous consent, instated as the Head of the Ancient family of Black, as his father (and previous Head of the family) had died while he was in prison. His mother had also died, but as she was not legally the legally recognised head of the family (regardless of what the internal relationships in the family might indicate otherwise), this was not a matter of importance to the Wizengamot at this time.

Once Peter Pettigrew was captured and interrogated, it turned out he had lied to his fellow Death Eaters. As a Hit Wizard, he had been trained in both legilimency and occlumency, and was a master in both. That is how he had been able to hide so successfully for the previous eleven years, and how his true allegiance had been missed by even those who had been his best friends. He had lied to his Death Eater colleagues to cast suspicions on Arthur Weasley, where he had been really reading the thoughts of his hit wizard cohorts as well as Weasley as he slept (and Arthur's own potent shields were down). Living in the Weasley house, he had accumulated numerous memories from the twins, which in later years would have served for good blackmail material. From Ginny's young mind, he had glimpsed her childhood obsession with Harry Potter.

When Sirius Black was given the 'honour' of pushing Pettigrew through the Veil of Death, Peter appeared to beg for mercy. The 'rat' was in a corner and thought he could perhaps plant a compulsion spell, or somehow escape. With this and knowing Peter's sneaky character from yeas of experience, Sirius appeared to let down his guard, and Pettigrew looked into his mind and saw a seething hatred unlike anything he had seen since the day he revealed the Potters' whereabouts to Lord Voldemort. In desperation he started to change into his rat form, but before it could take effect he felt Sirius' boot connect with his crotch, hard enough to lift him off the ground for an instant, and he fell backwards through the Veil. With a nasty smile, Sirius turned to the others in the chamber, and said "I've been waiting nearly eleven years to do that! Now, what have you done with Harry?"

With arrangement with the goblins at Gringott's, accounts and vaults (shown to contain illegally sourced funds) were seized and passed to the Ministry, under the control of the head of the DMLE personally, and outside the control of the Minister.

When the thirty Slytherin students were brought before the Wizengamot for their trials, Dumbledore insisted that they be let off, and given a chance to repent, mend their ways, and return to The Light. The fact that all had confessed to multiple crimes, and in seven of the cases had 'qualified' to take the dark Mark and were only waiting for the Dark Lord to reappear, did not seem to concern the old man.

Julia McNair turned from her place in the dock and laughed at him, calling him a pathetic old fool who couldn't beat the Dark Lord before (when a baby had done the job), and had no chance of doing it now. Dumbledore and his feeble bunch couldn't win, but they could! She and her friends didn't want forgiveness – they weren't going to repent, they were going to win! When the Dark Lord returned, all the people in the Wizengamot's chamber were going to be dead, and she personally would look forward to killing Dumbledore with her bare hands!

She had not known that Voldemort was gone, as it was still a very tightly controlled secret that he and the Malfoys had been obliterated. She declared that, however long she would have to stay in Azkaban, she was loyal to the Dark Lord and would loyally await his pleasure.

With this action, Miss McNair had finally put an end to Dumbledore's credibility. The Hogwarts Board of Governors, although no longer dominated by the pure-blood bigots, still fired him and appointed Filius Flitwick as his successor.

In consideration of his long years of service, Albus Dumbledore was given a cottage on the ground of Hogwarts, where he lived out his remaining years, visiting with Hagrid and Sybil Trelawney (who had also been pensioned off due to her debilitating alcoholism, but out of kindness and acknowledgment of her thirteen years of employment, officially ignoring her total incompetence as a teacher – you look after your own).


	6. COnsequences

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 6: Consequences**

Sirius Black arrived at the office of the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. With a private smile, he thought that this was the first time he had ever entered the office without the expectation of a major detention.

Filius Flitwick, the new Headmaster, welcomed him, and offered him tea, or something stronger. Over glasses of firewhiskey, they talked over the years past, first while Sirius and his friends had been at school, and then the war and years since.

Then Flitwick stunned Black, by offering him a teaching position at the Scottish school - he admitted that the Marauder's skill at charms and potions had been admired (at least confidentially, while publically disapproving). As Flitwick himself had taken the Head opposition, he would not have time to teach charms as well, and as a trained Hit Wizard, Sirius would be well-qualified to teach Charms, Potions, or Defense. As Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters had disappeared and possibly died (those who weren't actually executed), he needed a new Potions teacher as well, and as always since Voldemort had cursed the post, he needed a new Defense teacher for the year.

Sirius thanked the diminutive wizard profusely, but pointed out that his first priority was to find Harry Potter and see to his well-being, as he had sworn to do, and had failed at the task. He asked if Filius had any idea where to look.

Flitwick nodded sadly, and said he hated to lose the talent, but Harry was now living in southern France, adopted by Minerva McGonagall. This shocked Sirius, who took a long sip on his glass and admitted that, as he had not been able to look after Harry, Minerva had been the next on Lily's list, and he was glad that she was able to do so, but was surprised that she had left Hogwarts. To Flitwick's amusement, Sirius admitted that he had always considered her as a permanent part of the castle, and had long suspected that she was one of the original fixtures of the place.

As Sirius rose to leave, Filius extended his hand, and said that his offer stood, and that if Sirius would reconsider, Hogwarts would welcome him back into its halls.

Last year, Ron Weasley had been Harry Potter's best friend. This was of course, after Hermione Granger had left Hogwarts under what to Ron were suspicious circumstances. He had accompanied Harry through several dangerous adventures, ending up being strangled by Devil's Snare until, for some reason, the plant quit and let them go after they both went unconscious. Why the plant had not killed them, as the books said was its wont, was a mystery to all concerned.

Like most other dark-ish wounds, the scars from the Devil's Snare still showed around Ron's neck.

Ron found that, without Hermione's constant nagging about homework, he was actually enjoying his lessons, other than Professor Snape's potions classes. However, even in those hated sessions, he was doing well. His passive-aggressive behaviour was a thing of the past, except when his mother was around.

He also found that, without Harry Potter being seen as the one always leading the way, his past exploits had gained him a lot of respect. After all, he had faced a troll the previous Hallowe'en (although it must be said that the encounter was less heroic than the rumours made out). The scars on his neck showed that, with Harry, he had repeatedly faced danger and survived.

Having grown up with five over-achieving brothers and one 'precious' sisters, Ron had never felt himself the centre of attention, much less respect. This was now changing, and it felt good.

He noticed that the girls at Hogwarts were starting to mature in ways that were becoming interesting. He also found that some of the girls, and not just Gryffindors, were starting to eye him with some interest. This did not harm his self-esteem at all either.

So it was that he found himself waiting for his turn to try out for the Gryffindor House quidditch team. Oliver Wood was starting to worry about his NEWT exams, still a year away, and was looking to get a reserve keeper to be ready and experienced enough to take over once he graduated at the end of the following year (to hopefully go on to play professionally). Ron had played keeper in his family's pick-up games for years and wanted the spot.

Of course, he was being teased mercilessly by his twin brothers who, although being shoo-ins as the beaters for the team, still had to attend the try-outs.

The three boys were them startled when a short red-haired girl came out of the changing rooms carrying one of the team's brooms. Ron asked Ginny what she was doing there. The twins were a little more pointed in their comments about how ickle Ginny couldn't possibly be wanting to play with the big boys.

She responded that, just as Ron had played at home, so had she, and if she could play on a children's broom, she expected to do better on a school-class broom. As Harry was not at Hogwarts this year, the team was short a seeker, and she was going to try out for it. And if the twins didn't like it, they would find that she knew all their tricks and had a few of her own that they would probably not enjoy learning, so they could either back off or suffer the consequences.

Fred and George started to say that she was too young and it was too rough a game for her, when her temper flared. She pointed out that, as they had been teasing her and beaten her up (more tickling than anything more serious) since she was born she could put up with all the hazing from the other teams. Due to her small stature, she was more maneuverable that any of the other students trying out for the seeker position, and if Harry Potter could play in _his_ first year, why not Ginny Weasley! And to reiterate her earlier comments, they could take their brooms and place them in shady areas, or words to that effect.

Ron unwisely commented that she was being stupid comparing her ability to Harry. He knew she had been 'in love' with Harry all her life, because of the stories their mother had read to her, but that didn't make her a seeker.

As Ron got up after being hit hard across the head with Ginny's broom, she pointed out that Ron kept telling the family how Harry hated his reputation and nickname, and that he wanted to be acknowledged for what he had done, not just who he was. She pointed out that, if that was the kind of man Harry was (well, boy), then if she was ever going to catch him (smirking at her brothers at this) or rather succeeded in their mother's exceedingly obvious plans to put them together, she had damned well better have some accomplishments herself. She could fly and she could play, and even if she didn't end up with Harry at the end of things, at least she would have some fun on the journey!

She also pointed out that their mother seemed really keen for Ginny to get together with this marvelous hero, but from what she had seen, Harry was this scrawny kid who was nothing like the knight on a white horse that she had been told about. She figured that their mother was in more need of the image of a Hero than she was.

After the try-outs, for the second year in a row, Gryffindor had a first year student as their seeker.

July 23, 2011

Hermione Granger was sitting in the Blue Lagoon geothermal pool north of Reykjavik, smearing the blue mud over her face and unseen through the opaque waters, on her swelling belly and slipping her muddy hands inside her bikini bra to smear the mud on her breasts as well. The muggle Icelanders claimed that the mud had therapeutic values, and it actually did have magical healing properties.

Marie-Claire, her healer (and former classmate at Beauxbatons) had told her that she was carrying a healthy little sister for James Robert (named for his grandfathers) and Elspeth (from Minerva McGonagall's middle name, and also the Scottish variant of her mother's name). Jim-Bob was looking forward to the new member of the family, but little Ellie was confused about why Mummy had eaten the baby so it was in her tummy.

Hermione was on assignment from the _Bureau des Inconnus et des Choses Etranger (_The Office of Unknowns and Strange Things_),_ in the _Ministre des Magiques_ in Paris. As she was now fluent in five dialects of Trollish, her superiors had thought she would be an excellent ambassador to the Icelandic trolls as well, as it was thought likely that Icelanders spoke a similar dialect to the Scandinavian trolls. The Norse had like with trolls, if not harmoniously, and least peacefully, for many centuries. Several summers, she had secretly returned to the mountains around Hogwarts and had become good friends with Marshy, who she had met twenty years before, who was now nine meters tall, and the matriarch of her tribe.

She had been hired after graduated from Beauxbatons with letters of recommendation from her Headmistress and several of the professors. Her experience communicating with trolls in the Jura and Pyrenees mountains, as well as from Scotland, had been unique, and during her interview for the position of researcher, it was pointed out that, being from a muggle background and these experiences, she had a good grasp that things might not be what they seemed at first. This was an attitude that would be of great value to here in the French equivalent to the Department of Mysteries in London.

Her sojourn to Iceland had been successful, to the extent that she had made contact with the local trolls, and after they had laughed at her Norwegian/Scottish accent, the troll's matriarch welcomed her to their lodgings under the glacier. The cave had been heated by the country's geothermal heat, but Hermione had still suffered from mild frostbite.

The fact that she was very pregnant at the time was taken by the trolls as evidence that she was no threat to them, and this was a factor in the matriarch's welcome. This was also a factor in the spreading of the medicinal mud on her body in the lagoon, as one of the effects was to ease her stretchmarks.

However, for all the pleasant heat of the pool's mud treating her frostbitten fingers, she looked forward to getting back home to the Mediterranean coast

October 4, 2025

Minerva McGonagall sat on the veranda of her villa in the Pyrenees Mountains, looking out at the crescent moon in the west. Her birthday party still continued inside the house, but she was taking a 'breather', out on the porch.

It was her one-hundredth birthday, and the villa was crowded with people who she had come to love or had been important to her. As was the case at all such parties, there were some missing who were no longer there, or just could not come due to other pressing commitments. Life happened while you made other plans.

She loved the mountians. When she was young, she loved the old song 'These are My Mountains', and she would hum it to herself as she trekked through the hills of her homeland. These mountains were not those she grew up in, but she had come to love them as well in the years she had taught at Beauxbatons.

It had been ten years since she was last in Scotland. She had travelled under a strong glamour spell, which was prudent as she found that there were still those who were resentful of the changes which had started the year she left Hogwarts taking two of the most promising students away from Britain. Some still blamed her for the changes.

She had often wondered about that. In all the years, when she met and spoke with the centaurs about the prophecy more than three decades ago, they still refused to say who exactly it had been that they saw as necessary to leave Hogwarts. They only would say that the one who left was pivotal to the flux of time and destiny. At the time, she thought it was young Hermione Granger, as the young witch was the first of those she knew who she was instrumental in sending 'into exile'. Other times, she mused that it had been Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Hated-His-Nickname, and at other times she flattered herself that it had been she herself. After all, she was the one who told off Dumbledore, and led the two students to leave, precipitating some of the changes.

She sipped from her glass, and smiled. Harry Potter had gone into the wine and whiskey business after graduating, and had hired her, his godfather and an old friend of his family to consult. As Minerva and Sirius were animagi, they had extraordinary senses of smell, and Harry felt that this sense (and their experience with Scotch whiskey) would be very useful in the blending of the various products. Remus Lupin, to Minerva's knowledge, was probably the only werewolf who ever got a job because of his enhanced sense of smell in his were form.

For her centenary birthday, Harry had given her a rare case of 'The Auld Alliance', which was the first of his Scottish style of whiskey produced in France. She smiled as she recalled the legal trouble Harry had gotten into from the authorities for originally trying to label it as 'Scotch'.

Once Harry was away from Hogwarts and Severus Snape's abysmal teaching (if it could be called that), he showed a remarkable gift for potions, and Minerva had needed to stop herself from comparing Harry to his mother who had been a gifted potioneer. He also showed a love of gardening and viniculture, and had told her that when he was growing up, working in the garden was among the only peace and happiness he ever had with his relatives, because they left him alone to do his yardwork.

Between his skill with plants and potions, and a bit of financial backing from some people, Harry had become noted in his new trade. During one of his many visits with her, he commented that a lot of people expected him to use his fame to return to England and go into politics. He had concluded that this career path sound like as much fun as rubbing sand into his eyeballs.

Minerva was called back into the villa to blow out candles on her birthday gateau (also prepared by Harry who had also learned to cook (also a time when he was not bothered, as it might affect the outcome of his efforts, and after a few burned roasts and spoiled puddings leading to tummy upsets, the Dursleys left him alone there as well). A number of the guests, led by Sirius and Remus, were standing around with fire extinguishers claiming that one hundred candles constituted a fire hazard.

Minerva looked around the room at four generations of her students, many of whom were now her dear friends, and blew out the candles.

August 30, 2059

The Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat in the staff common room, sharing a bottle of well-aged Single Malt Firewhiskey with some of the staff. They were just wrapping up the final meeting of the summer, preparing for tomorrow's influx of the new and returning students, and were taking a last break before the madness resumed.

Sirius had been on staff for over half a century, and had taken over as Headmaster after Aurora Sinistra had retired ten years before. Aurora had taken over when Filius Flitwick had resigned the post to return to teaching, seven years before his death.

Having a glass of American made 'Scotch' tickled Sirius' sense of fun, as Professor McGonagall (Athena, Minerva's great-great granddaughter-in-law and Sirius' sister-in-law) thought it heresy to bring any such abomination into Scotland. Harry had discovered that the peat bogs of the Pacific Northwest and the barley from the inland states provided suitable raw materials, and as the Scots didn't appear anxious to produce the wizarding drink, he had decided to fill the gap, and having developed a taste for the highland style of tipple, decided to combine the styles – it had taken him some years to perfect the firewhiskey version of the malted liquor, and in spite of Harry's denials, Sirius suspected him of eventually sneaking into Ogden's under his father's old invisibility cloak to steal the secret.

Sirius had taken Filius' offer, after he had checked up on Harry's whereabouts and health, and spent some time in France looking after him (well, helping Minerva McGonagall with raising him). Once Harry graduated from Beauxbatons, Sirius found himself without something to occupy most of his time. He had ended up returning to the place which had been his home for seven of his formative (and happiest) years. He married one of Minerva's granddaughters (over the elder witch's half-hearted objections) who he had met while in 'exile' in France, and their kids had taken some looking after as well, but he needed something more to do.

On his taking up teaching Defense, the curse appeared to be broken perhaps through the effective death of Riddle who had cast the original curse, and he continued in that post for many years until he was promoted to Head. With the disappearance of Snape during the purges (whether voluntary or assisted was unknown, but Sirius thought it likely his old enemy had been helped along) Filius had made him Head of Slytherin House, figuring that this would promote a more congenial mixing of the houses, and his prankish nature and cunning would help restore the House to its ancient glory. In addition this had the effect of teaching some of the residual pure-blood believers that unacceptable behaviour had unpleasant consequences.

He and Filius had collaborated on several projects, and calling in some help from his old friend Moony, they managed to create what was now known as the Head's Map, which now hung proudly in the Headmaster's office. Having heard Harry's stories of his year at Hogwarts, and Minerva's comments of how Snape's hatred of James had poisoned his relations with the boy, Sirius used the map and his own skills to make sure that any pranking was of a harmless kind. The bullying that had been prevalent during Dumbledore's last years was a thing of the past.

When she retired from the Aurors after thirty years of active duty, on his taking up the Head position, Sirius had hired his cousin and Marauder-in-law, Nymphadora, to replace him as defense professor.

Looking at his glass again, he reminisced about his godson, whose distillery had produced the amber liquid therein. Harry's vinyards in France and in Oregon (on the west side of the Three Sisters volcanoes), took full advantage of Harry's skills. The one good thing about Harry's upbringing by the Dursleys was his experience in tending their gardens – in looking after the yard, Harry had time to himself that did not result in the harsh treatment that otherwise marked his time with his relatives.

Sirius had seen to it that Vernon Dursley had been 'inconvenienced' for his actions, and for the rest of the man's life, he had needed to keep a bathroom plunger handy, as every toilet he ever used tended to back up.

When he had arrived at Beauxbatons, Harry found his classes in the school's vinyards and the enology portions of the herbology courses were his favourite times at the school. He also proved to be his mother's son, and a genius in Potions. Combining his two talents and favourite courses seemed to be the perfect future.

Since leaving school and attaining his majority and inheritances, Harry had invested in a winery in France. With further investment from Sirius, as well as the Delacour family and his adoptive 'great-grandmother', and his own abilities, he eventually bought the property, and it was turning out wines of great repute, renaming the farmhouse winery 'LeGrange' in honour of his first friend. As his fame as a winemaker grew, Harry was asked to consult for, and eventually invest in, a group of properties in the States. For the US operations, he added the distillery, as he had years before at the French facilities, and was making fine brandies as well as the liquor currently (and temporarily) residing in Sirius' glass. The Hogwarts head table often features wines from Harry's French and American operations, including the world's only red champagne-style 'Pure-Bloods' Folly' brand (although it could not be legally called Champagne).

Sirius looked forward to the sorting ceremony the next day. It would be the first time Harry had set foot in Great Britain since he left sixty-seven years before. He and Hermione were coming to see their eldest granddaughter be sorted – Sirius expected them to come back when Minerva Potter graduated as well, but perhaps only then, unless one of Harry's other descendants decided to accept Hogwarts' invitation to attend. Even with the reforms put through over the years through the Diggory, Bones, Weasley (Percy), Greengrass, and Weasley (Ginny) administrations at the Ministry, Harry had a lingering and deep distrust of British society, and some of the Ancient and Noble Families in particular (at least those who were not thoroughly culled in what were now being called The Great Purge).

Tossing back his drink and then waiting until the steam cleared, Hogwarts' Headmaster returned to his quarters to sleep and wait the coming days.

**Author's Note - Re birthdate of Minerva McGonagall:**

According to Wikia, and based on JKR's statement on Pottermore (viewed as canon by many), Minerva McGonagall was born October 4, 1935. However, according to the Harry Potter Lexicon (HPL), quoting the transcript of J.K. Rowling's live interview on ," , 16 October 2000, at the time of the point in the stories of the interview (assumed as 1995), she is stated to be 'a sprightly seventy'. That would make her birth year 1925. Also JKR says that MM started teaching at Hogwarts in 1956, indicating that she qualified as a teacher when she was either 21 years old, or 31 years old.

I find the idea even the most accomplished witch would be teaching at supposedly the best school of Witchcraft and Wizardry only three years after her own graduation rather implausible. As an apprenticeship usually lasts several years, followed by years at a Journeyman level, to attain a Mastery by 21 sounds rather unlikely, even for a very gifted person.

As both come directly from JKR, both can be regarded as canon. I choose to use the 1925 year for the reason above, and if you want to fight about it, be my guest (which if you are reading this, effectively, you are), but you will be showing up for the battle on your own.


	7. Epilogue

**For the Want of a Horse-shoe Nail**

For the want of a nail, the shoe was lost

For the want of a shoe the horse was lost

For the want of the horse, the rider was lost

For the want of the rider, the battle was lost

For the want of the battle, the kingdom was lost

And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail

**Disclaimer: **I own the rights to nothing of the Harry Potter stories, movies, merchandise, sexy underwear, or other paraphernalia, which are owned by J.K. Rowling and her associates – I am definitely not her, nor them. I have written this for my own entertainment and hopeful the amusement of some others as well. I have invented some characters of my own, so any blame for those does rest with me. Absolutely no money being made in any fashion at any time from this exercise in ravings of a lunatic.

**Rating:** T. Seriously AU. Warning, some character deaths, some character bashing. Horcruxes

**Chapter 7**: **Epilogue**

Thursday, April 2, 5,700,567, 043 (roughly) – Due to the slowing rotation of the earth due to the conservation of angular momentum with the receding moon, the lengthening of the year due to the mass loss of the expanding sun approaching its red giant phase, and the extinction of the human race some 5 and a half billion years earlier (making human calendars kind of pointless), the date is somewhat uncertain.

As the envelope of the expanding sun approached the surface of the dry earth (the oceans having evaporated some billions of years ago), the surface of the earth was melting. Those ghosts who had not managed to complete their destinies (and so still remained in their spectral forms) had moved to the outer planets or had transcended planetary life entirely and now lived among the stars.

As the depth of the molten surface increased, the incandescent rock finally reached the deepest of the vaults which the goblins had warded with the strongest protections known to magic, many many years ago. Eventually, even the remaining magic was overcome, and the vaults themselves melted, followed immediately by the contents which had been placed there for what the owners hoped was eternal safety.

In one of the oldest and deepest vaults, a golden cup once owned by Helga Hufflepuff melted into the molten rock and the soul fragment which had been stored within its metal was released to be incinerated with the rest of the vault's contents.

At this point, the last Horcrux of the late and unlamented Lord Voldemort ceased to exist, and Harry Potter's war was finally and completely over.


End file.
